


into the shadows (i think i'm falling with you)

by turtle_duck



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 83,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_duck/pseuds/turtle_duck
Summary: It isn't until Eve is walking away, that she finally understands. She finally understands that all she can do is accept what she does not understand. So she turns around; turns a new page, turns into a new chapter.Set post season 3 finale, moments after Villanelle and Eve walk away from each other. Eve's POV.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 185
Kudos: 364





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on this! Hope ya'll like it. It's gonna be a three-part piece, so buckle up!

It only takes less than a second for Villanelle to turn around after Eve, meeting her gaze head-on.

Eve is used to the non-verbal communication. The exchanged gazes equating to something like cars colliding, or stars burning out before they fall from the sky. But this time, it's different.

Villanelle is looking at her with a quiet kind of confirmation - as if she had no doubt that Eve would be waiting to meet her eyes the moment she turned around. The smile playing at her lips is outlined by a mix of emotions Eve hasn't seen before - solemn and contented. It might be the first time she's been with Villanelle where she's doesn't feel like she's untethered, floating away from earth - the first time she's not at a loss for what to do next, or how much time she'll get with her, or whether she'll see her again. This kind of gaze doesn't allow for that kind of floating. This gaze places Eve.

And Villanelle is turning slowly until Eve is met with the harsh image of her back yet again.. and she's walking away. Eve's blood runs cold - from shock, more than anything else - and it takes a few solid seconds before her body catches up with her brain. Her feet, full of lead, finally manage to thrust her body forward!

"Wait!"

Villanelle stills, pauses for a moment before turning around and meeting the shorter woman's eyes once again. This time, the gaze is inquisitive - marked with furrowed brows and burning curiousity.

When she doesn't make any move forward, Eve take another couple steps, fidgety and disjointed.

"What - what are you doing?" Eve hates the desperation in her voice but she is learning to relinquish the things she does not have control over.

She shrugs, non-committally, hands buried into her yellow coat, but pain outlines every movement of her body.

"Walking."

"After everything.. everything we've been through, we can't - you can't.." Eve is sputtering, tears threatening to fall at any moment, and Villanelle looks frozen - like some statue that Eve is thankful to look at even for just another moment.

She smiles, eyes watery under the bridge lights, and shakes her head softly. It only takes three long strides for her to bridge the gap between the two of them, and Eve wants to curse her for being graceful even in moments like this. She hesitates before bringing her hand up to cup the ex-MI6 agent's cheek.

"You will never be safe with me, Eve."

The softness in her eyes, the resignation displayed on her mouth answers any question that could have been lingering. Villanelle's concern is clear. not because she sees Eve as her property, something she has marked as hers and will defend accordingly but because her priority is Eve's livelihood - even if that costs her own.

"So let me never be safe."

It's barely a whisper but decisive. Not something to be argued.

The blonde is searching the older woman's face - tears that threatened to fall now flowing freely. She shakes her head.

She doesn't say anything, and then suddenly Eve is engulfed. Villanelle's long arms are looping around her waist, and she tucks Eve into her. It's soft and firm at the same time, some kind of equation that could only exist within the realm of Villanelle. Eve gasps into the warmth of her neck - wondering if she should apologize for the tears she's smearing into her skin - when she feels Villanelle's hand drop to her ass and - _Seriously_?

God, she's wanted Villanelle too, inexplicable amounts - but Eve thought they'd at least allow for a moment of coming together first before even entertaining second base. And yes, Villanelle always surprises her - but getting freaky on the London Bridge after sharing a moment of profound intimacy is surprising, even for the blonde.

Eve feels her reaching into her back pocket, pulling out her phone, and throwing it over the bridge.

"Hey! What the hell!"

She yanks her face away from her Villanelle's neck, but only a couple inches as they are still intertwined. Eve is about to berate her, when she sees the " _you-know-I-had-to_ " look in her eyes. She didn't do it to pull a reaction from her, or make her angry. She did it because it only made sense. It's a hell of a lot more likely that the Twelve are tracking her phone, and listening to each of Eve's conversations, than not. _Hell_ , it's probably impossible that they aren't.

"Sorry." It's the first time she's heard Villanelle apologize and mean it, and some sick, dark part of Eve wants to laugh at the fact that it's over a fucking _iphone_ and not.. you know, getting shot. She doesn't have time to process because suddenly Villanelle is leaning down, and her cheek slides against Eve's face softly. The motion reminds her of a cat - wild, untamed, but the affection is long remembered when it's given - and she feels the assasin's breath on her ear when she whispers.

"Liverpool station. Tomorrow morning, 8 AM. West entrance. Be ready to go."

Eve is nodding before she even processes the words, or what she's committing to. If there's one thing she's sure of by the end of this night, it's that her and Villanelle are supposed to be together. It makes no sense to be apart. Not in this world, and probably not in next. And if there is a God after all, then she's dropped a few too many hits for Eve to ignore it at this point. It's clear now. Eve would follow her anywhere - whether she wants to or not. But the difference echoes in her head tonight, in a way it never has before - she _does_ want to.

Villanelle pulls back and looks at down at Eve with that same smile - small, but encapsulating a realm of emotions that language couldn't do justice - and before she drops her arms from the shorter woman's waist, she delivers one more quiet instruction.

"Go straight home. No stops. I'll see you tomorrow, Eve."

And with that, she's walking away - she doesn't turn around this time.

Bambi-legged and shaken, Eve turns around and hopes that autopilot can at the very least bring her to her door-step. She only manages a few steps before her head is reeling. _Why should I go home? What if the twelve is waiting for me? What if the Twelve is waiting for Villanelle?_ Some part of her yearns to turn around, to chase after her, to pick out her yellow coat amongst the passerby's strolling across the bridge. But she doesn't. Because you trust her. It makes the breath catch in your throat. Firstly, because that's fucked up. Secondly, because it signifies something new. A page turned, a new chapter began.

She trusts that Villanelle wouldn't send her in harm's way - not now. But it's a risk none the less. She wonders if the blonde is following her, watching her from afar - the possibility brings a similar sensation that it always has.. but even that is different. She feels the same level of awake that she always has entertaining the thought of the blonde trailing her - but where there used to be fear, she now feels.. safe. Maybe not safe in the traditional way - she knows she'll never be fully safe with Villanelle, but she doesn't feel unsafe _because_ of Villanelle. She longs for safety in a different way - no longer to be free of her, but for each of them - both of them - to be free from all the targets, all the obstacles, all the seemingly-innocent strangers on the street who could just be waiting for the right moment to strike. The more she thinks about it, the more she accepts that Villanelle is probably not following her. Villanelle is a lot of things - but she is not sloppy. She knows that they have some sort of head-start.. the Twelve will be too preoccupied tonight dealing with Paul's death and whatever loose ends he left to worry about Villanelle and Eve's whereabouts. That is the morning's concern. Once she pushes the thought aside, she begins to process what she just agree'd to.

In the morning, she'll meet Villanelle. They'll get on a train to god knows where and - and then what? Start a life together with new identities? Settle down in a farming village in Scotland? Will they ever actually be able to settle down, or will they forever be reduced to chasing their freedom - on the road, a new city every month, every week maybe? The thought brings a lot of feelings - despair at the thought of Villanelle never being able to feel truly safe in her own home, devastation at the thought of Villanelle never truly having a home, some weird fucked-up form of excitement knowing that they'll get through it _together -_ many emotions, but not a single doubt. The choice echoes in her head - clear as a bell.

Eve would follow Villanelle anywhere. Willingly.

* * *

When Eve finally gets home, she's amazed. The woman couldn't recall a second of the journey even if she wanted to. She lets herself in and her eyes fixate on the clock on the oven - _3:13 AM_ \- and Eve's body starts to register the fact that she's on your feet for nearly 19 hours straight. First, her back screams, then her knees cry for her to sit down - lay down preferably, and sleep for the next 19, but she won't. She doesn't consider it for a moment.

She grabs a knife from the kitchen drawer, and begins tiptoeing around the house, checking every room, every closet, every corner. It's a lot less fun - she realizes - looking for some anonymous man from the Twelve that might be camped out in her home, than it is to look for Villanelle. She's not surprised to find the house free of any intruders - not that she doubted Villanelle in the least, but just that the Twelve has a habit of snaking in when you least expect it and that is something to always be alert about it even if seemingly needless. When the house is thoroughly combed through, she saunters to the kitchen to put the knife away, and enter into a staring contest with the bottle of red wine on the counter top.

"Fuck it."

She grabs the bottle and brings it with her upstairs, uncorking it and setting it on her nightstand, before throwing the biggest suitcase she can find onto her bed. Eve takes a swig and registers the clock - _3:57 A.M._ \- before accepting that she probably will not get any sleep tonight. Maybe 30 minutes if she's lucky.

She packs the essentials - toothbrush, underwear, socks - and hesitates when she reaches for a jacket. She has no idea where she's going. Not one more piece of information further than Liverpool Station, West Entrance. She curses Villanelle, before throwing in the jacket anyways.. and shortly, her suitcase becomes a confusing mix of shorts and jackets and beanies and lightweight shirts. At least one article of clothing for whatever climate she might be heading into. She wonders how Villanelle does it - picks out whatever devastating outfit she'll be bagging her next kill in, five minutes before finding out she has to leave. Then Eve remembers - she probably just buys whatever she wants in whatever city she gets assigned to next. Is that what she expects to do for Eve? Just buy her a whole new wardrobe whatever place they land in? The thought makes Eve scrunch her nose up as she takes another gulp of wine.

She knows that she'd follow Villanelle anywhere, accept whatever kind of life that entails - but that doesn't mean depending on her completely. Eve has always made her own way. She is not going to be Villanelle's _sugar ba_ \- she sighs, squashing the thought before she can finish it.

There's an unspoken agreement between them now - they're equals. Nothing more, nothing less. It's the only way they compliment each other. It took them enough time to learn that lesson.

When she finishes stuffing the hurricane of clothes into her suitcase, she moves on to her bedside drawers - taking only what she knows she can't leave behind. A bracelet from her grandmother. A locket from her mother. A polaroid of her and Bill drunkenly embracing one another. She hesitates when she fishes out her wedding ring - her first time picking it up since she's taken it off. She may as well be holding a pound of lead the way it weighs in her hand. She considers taking it if only to pawn it further on down the line - if Villanelle's funds somehow run out, or - it hits her.

Here she is, looking at the wedding ring she adorned for thirteen years, and only considering taking it if it can be a means to support Villanelle and herself. All she can do is laugh.

God, she really _is_ fucked up.

_Piss off forever_. She imagines it engraved onto the ring, in beautiful scripture wrapping around it.

It's concerning, isn't it? She's barely thought about Niko at all, while she packs up her life and prepares to leave the house they had shared together for over a decade. She thinks of him in a way that feels fixed - she'll always love Niko, she'll always care for his well-being and livelihood, and she'll spend of rest of her life regretting what she put him through - but the detached nature of it is reminiscent of the way somebody may think about their first boyfriend.

She lays down, bottle of wine discarded on the nightstand next to her, and really tries to embrace the situation for what it is - her last night in her home. She should surely feel something.. _more_. She runs her hand over the bed and thinks about when they bought it - after Niko demanded a bigger bed, because Eve sleeps like she's determined to conquer the territory of the mattress. She thinks about the pillow talk they had - when Niko had mentioned he wanted kids for the first time, and Eve lied. _Some day, sure, but not right now, Niko. It's just.. too much_. She thinks about all the times they made love - the nauseating feel of his mustache grazing her thigh. She thinks about all of it, because she makes herself.

But when her eyes finally start to drift, she relinquishes whatever control she was trying to assert over her brain and allows it to take it's natural course. She doesn't think of the man who used to occupy the other half of her bed for 13 years, no. She thinks of blonde hair. Hazel eyes - calculated and soft. She thinks of whispered promises - delicate and Russian. She thinks of the scar on her back, wishes she could see it, but know's its there. She thinks of Villanelle - wishes she could see her, but knows she's there. Waiting too.

* * *

Eve's eyes shoot open at 7:25 AM. She registers the clock only momentarily before jumping out of bed.

"Shit.. _shit_!"

She has 45 minutes to make it to Liverpool station, which is more than doable. It is only 15 minutes away after all, but she wanted to allow herself more than enough time to - well, be on time. What if she shows up two minutes late, and in those two minutes Carolyn shows up instead of Eve? Warns Villanelle of the future she can't have? What if she shows up two minutes late, and those two minutes are enough for Villanelle to realize she can't have this? Doesn't want this? She.. she does not have time to think about this.

Eve starts doing a dance that involves pulling up her pant legs and brushing her teeth at the same time. Thankfully, she's mastered the art of getting ready in record time after a few late-night karaoke sessions with Bill and this is no different. Well, it's a little different. Before, she was striving to make it to meetings on-time and not look hungover. Now, she's trying to make it on time for the start of her new life.

She's lugging her suitcase down the stairs in five minutes. It's the final once-over in the mirror near her front her front door that causes her to hesitate. Should she be wearing a disguise? Wouldn't Villanelle have told her, or is it to be assumed? She can't imagine Villanelle not wearing a disguise - maybe a red wig, or a short bob or - _Focus_. It's not like Eve has an abundance of wigs laying around, or time for that matter. She grabs a beanie off the coat hook, and grabs her sunglasses off the coffee table, and settles. She's closing her door, and locking it before she realizes this may be the last time she walks this path to the street. Realizes it may even be the last time she walks in London. She wonders if she should feel a sentimental goodbye aching somewhere deep inside of her - but when she can't tap into it, she just continues her trek. She thinks maybe she's done with goodbyes.

* * *

She pulls up to Liverpool Station's west entrance at 7:55 A.M. Mutters a thank you to the cab driver. Pays cash, probably too much.. and then she's out. She's as alert as she can be in, uncaffeinated, in a bustling train station. Eve tries to remember the last time she felt this awake without having had three cups of black coffee in the morning, and she does remember. It was only the night before with Villanelle on the bridge. Before that, it was when she waving to Villanelle through the train window - always a step behind.

It's always with Villanelle.

_Villanelle. Villanelle. Villanelle._

She's scanning the crowd - looking for some sort of fashion statement that separates her from the rest of the population crowding the trains to get to work on time. She's scanning and scanning and starting to panic when she's not finding her and -

"The hair is one thing. But covering that beautiful face of yours, Eve? Well.. that's just sinful."

Eve whips around, and feels every particle of anxiety release from her body when she spots Villanelle leaning against the wall - all 90's bad boy, with a smirk to top it off.

She wants to throw her arms around her, take her in, but she doesn't. Of course she doesn't. She does, however, note that Villanelle is not wearing a diguise in the least. She has her blonde hair tied back, is wearing a black bomber jacket, sweatpants, and hightop sneakers. Eve's eyebrows raise in admiration - Villanelle looks just like everybody else. Well, aside from the fact that even in the most casual outfit she can muster, she still radiates beauty and confidence. But Eve damns herself for forgetting that as much as Villanelle stands out, she can stand in just as easily.

She rolls her eyes before removing her glasses and her beanie, and steps forward with her arms crossed. Villanelle raises an eyebrow, and reaches past Eve to slide her suitcase in between them, tutting as if to say _you think you'd learn the first time_. It's a small testament to how well they can work together - Villanelle makes up for what Eve lacks in forgetfulness, Eve pulls Villanelle back when she gets too confident. Eve gives her a small smile, before gesturing to her lack-of-disguise.

"No frills today?"

"You have your passport, yes?"

"Yes. O-of course." Eve stammers, ignoring the dodged question.

"Well, it is important we look like ourselves. For today, at least."

Eve just stares. Villanelle is smiling - trying her best to maintain an air of confidence and resolve - but Eve can't overlook the small nervousness wound tightly into the smile. Eve steps forward wordlessly, and puts her hand on Villanelle's arm. Villanelle leans into it, subconsciously for a moment, before she straightens up. She fishes two tickets out of her pocket, and hands one to Eve. Eve takes it, and stares at it.

_Dublin_.

She is surprised to see the location - a stop less than four hours away. She expected somewhere much further. Further is safer. She opens her mouth, but Villanelle has already read her mind.

"It is not the end of the journey."

They stare at each other for a moment in silence, and a thousand questions pop into Eve's mind. _Why this station? Why Dublin? Why Ireland? Why not New Zealand, or fucking China or?_ Villanelle must see the burning curiosity in her eyes, because she steps forward, and it is her turn to place her hands on Eve's arms. She looks at her with a gaze that is penetrating, but peaceful - reassurance poking through the nervousness.

"Eve, you will have many questions. I know this. I promise you that I will answer each one, to the best of my ability. I can not do that until I know we are safe." She hesitates on her word choice. "Until we are alone, at the very least. But safe - that is the goal. I know it is hard, but I need you to trust me. Please."

Her voice wavers - only slightly, in a way that would probably be undetectable to anybody but Eve - and her eyes are glistening in the sterile light of the train station.

_3647 to Dublin. Approaching._

Eve maintains the eye contact, doesn't miss a beat.

"I do. I trust you."

Villanelle looks taken aback, eyes swimming with something akin to gratitude or disbelief. Eve doesn't have time to dissect it, before Villanelle is grabbing Eve's luggage and slipping her backpack over her shoulder.

Eve tries not to fixate on it, not till she can ask. But just a backpack? When Villanelle imagines safety for Eve, does that picture not include her? Maybe Villanelle will send for her luggage once they secure a place, or maybe Villanelle doesn't intend on sticking around for the duration Eve may have expected.

_Forever_ , she realizes. That is what she's expecting - whether she wants to admit it to herself or or not.

She gulps, and follows Villanelle closely as she approaches the train. Closely, not because she doesn't want to let her out of her sight, like all the times before. But closely, because Villanelle is the only thing grounding Eve to this Earth, and she'd be damned to put unnecessary space between them for another moment.

They board wordlessly. Villanelle shoves Eve's luggage in the compartment above their seats, and motions for Eve to take the window seat. Eve obliges - knowing that if she can't ask any questions for the duration of their travels, then she'll have to distract herself with whatever she can. In this case, the scenery.

Villanelle takes the aisle seat, looking relaxed, but Eve knows her eyes are scanning their surroundings every moment they're open. It makes Eve want to cry - thinking of this being her life ever since she was broken out of prison, barely a teenager. Eve's no fool - she knows Villanelle has killed _mercilessly_ , knows what she's brought upon herself. Eve doesn't try to ignore the facts. Those days are gone. This new chapter is about more than the two of them - it's about acceptance.

Eve doesn't say anything. Just reaches over and squeezes her hand. Allows herself the only contact she assumes will be appropriate for the next few hours. Villanelle stills at the contact, then squeezes back. She tears her eyes away from the crowd and gives her undivided attention to Eve - looking at her with the intensity of a storm, and the calmness that comes afterwards. She brings Eve's hands to her lips - delivers a kiss to her knuckles - and then puts Eve's hand back in her own lap before averting her eyes to the occupants of the train once again.

They don't speak again, after the train takes off. It's only twenty minutes before they're immersed in greenery, and Eve is watching the greens and blues bleed together as diligently as she can before her eyelids start to weigh. She's hasn't been able to sleep on public transit for years - not since the day they flew to Berlin to track down Villanelle. But now, with Villanelle at her side, she feels herself slipping into an easy sleep. It's funny - falling asleep feeling safe because of the very thing that has made you lose sleep so many times. She's still smiling when she drifts off.

When she wakes up an hour later to readjust, she opens one eye to check on Villanelle. Instead, she is greeted with the image of three paper cups of black coffee on the tray table in front of her, steam dancing around the lids. She looks over to see Villanelle averting her gaze innocently, honed in on a crossword puzzle.

It is both completely surprising, and not at all.

Eve prepares herself for a life that is both completely surprising, and not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of murder  
> TW: mentions of suicide
> 
> i'm so grateful for the feedback, and so, so happy that ya'll are enjoying so far! my writing style can be a bit stream-of-consciousness and i do my best to format that in a way that is easily digestible, but i'm sorry if it is hard to follow at any points! i'm also realizing this might be a five chapter work, instead of three.. but we will see!
> 
> for all those out there who hate a slow-burn: i'm sorry to torture ya! there was just so much to pack in after the s3 finale that i felt a sincerely long dialogue was needed. tried to cut out any unnecessary fat, but still was left with nearly 10,000 words!
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading! hope ya'll like this one.

When Eve wakes up again, the train is no longer moving.

She's groggy - forced into consciousness too soon after entering into a sleep far more peaceful than any she can remember in recent months - but she's unable to ignore the persistent nudging on her shoulder.

She grunts, which has no effect on the nudging, before begrudgingly opening her eyes.

"Eve."

Villanelle is hovering over her, cooing her name softly. Eve wants to pretend to still be sleeping just to hear it another time. Instead, she lets her eyes focus on the blonde staring down at her - sunlight streaming in behind her. She looks almost angelic - as if she doesn't fit in with the scenery of the train clad with business men in work suits, but rather in some oil painting tucked away in a gallery in London. Eve thinks it's funny - how warm she can feel at the image of Villanelle hovering over here, when the memory of the assasin hovering over her only a week prior brought feelings of devastation and anger. Time is a funny thing - how it moves, and changes things. Rearranges them. Puts them exactly where they're supposed to be.

Eve nods, and Villanelle pulls back now that she knows the older woman is not going back to sleep. Villanelle grabs Eve's luggage down from the overhead compartment, slings her backpack over her shoulder, before reaching for the three coffees that have yet to be touched on the tray table.

Eve quirks an eyebrow, as the blonde struggles to manage two pieces of luggage and three coffee cups, before she stares at Eve wide-eyed.

"What?"

She asks, readjusting the coffee cups in her hands, tongue sticking out a bit. Eve laughs, feels a tug in heart strings.

"While I appreciate the gesture, I'm sure I can get my fix on the next ride. I don't feel confident those won't end up on the floor anyways."

Villanelle's brow furrows, as she casts Eve a look that reads " _I-am-an-ever-graceful-assasin-Eve-don't-you-forget-it_ ", before she relents. Feigning annoyance, she sets the coffees back on the tray table and holds her hand out to help Eve up.

Eve accepts it, briefly, before letting go in favor of grabbing the handle of her luggage from Villanelle's grasp. Villanelle stares at her for a moment, and Eve wonders if she'll make some joke about chivalry, but instead - she turns and starts descending the aisle to deboard the train.

Eve wonders if Villanelle is really that nervous - nervous enough to have not made one snarky remark in the past five minutes, and the sheer silence of it is enough to worry Eve as she tries to keep her suitcase from bumping into every seat on the aisle.

"You know", Vilanelle starts, back still to Eve as she moves down the aisle gracefully, "maybe it's good you didn't drink the coffee, after all. This way, you can continue your snore fest on the next ride. I mean seriously, Eve. You're lucky you are pretty."

Eve flushes, jaw drops just in time for Villanelle to see as the blonde casts a smirk over her shoulder.

Villanelle is fine, Eve decides. At least for now.

They board the next train pretty much immediately.

Eve looks at the ticket.

Baltimore, Ireland.

"Southern Ireland. You probably have not heard of it. Most people have not," Villanelle provides when Eve casts her an inquisitive glance.

Eve opens her mouth again. Begins to ask, "Is this the last-?"

Villanelle shakes her head, killing her question before it can survive.

"I told you, Eve. All of your questions, I will answer. To the best of my ability. I can not do that until we are.. away."

Eve notices that word choice. Villanelle doesn't say safe, this time around. She thinks that Villanelle is done making promises she can't keep. It makes Eve both happy, and devastated - at the very same time.

She breathes in through her nose, casts her gaze out the window as the train departs from the station.

The scene repeats itself - Villanelle is averting her gaze to some magazine left behind in the seat pocket in front of her, but Eve knows it is only an act and that Villanelle is aware and alert of their surroundings. Eve's eyes start to droop again - she entered into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a long time because of Villanelle's presence; her body demands more of it.

She doesn't wake up again until the train enters into the station.

* * *

She opens her eyes, stretching as the train comes to a stop, and notices that her bones don't scream at her the way they usually do. She supposes her body is thanking her, worshiping her for the most consistent sleep she has gotten in well over a year.

She looks over at Villanelle who is offering her a small smile. She grabs a paper cup of coffee of her tray table, and offers it to Eve.

"You will not waste this one?"

Eve scoffs.

"I wasn't the one who ordered three coffees for a sleeping person! I did not consent to the three- coffee-purchase."

Villanelle tsks at her, blonde bun bobbing as she shakes her head.

"Still, Eve. For somebody who owned a _chicken_ to provide her eggs, I think you'd be more environmentally conscious."

Villanelle stills for a moment, glancing at Eve from her periphy. She wonders if its a test - wonders if Villanelle is seeing how bringing up her past life - her last dance with normalcy - affects her. Eve is unphased, focusing her attention with the utter disgust Villanelle mustered whilst producing the word chicken.

"What? Egg-laying freak you out, or you just don't like chickens?"

Villanelle doesn't miss a beat, crosses her arms over her chest as she leans back into her seat, lip curling in visible disgust.

"They are like.. furry little dinosaurs. They freak me out."

Eve's eyebrows shoot to her hairline, jaw agape once again. Is it healthy to experience this much shock in one day? She supposes she should get used to it if Villanelle is going to become a daily fixture in her life.

An assasin. Freaked out by chickens.

There must be weirder things. Surely?

* * *

They don't get on another train. 

The bus ride only confuses Eve further.

They pull away from the station, and within minutes, they are traversing down a winding road - green and lush, the ocean only expanding as it comes into view. The sun is setting, casting a glitter effect upon the water. It's beautiful, Eve thinks.

She rips her gaze from the window, when Villanelle grunts under her breath for maybe the third time in five minutes, and she bites her lip to hide her smile from the disgruntled assasin.

The bus is small and oddly full, given the fact they're in a small town in the middle of the butt-fuck-no-where, Ireland. There's a man taking up too much space in the seat next to Villanelle, legs spread wide enough that his knee bumps into the blonde's every time the bus takes a windy turn.

Eve wants to laugh. She ponders what the other occupants of the bus must think of her - probably assume her to be another normal, easily-annoyed twenty-something year old. She ponders whether they could even entertain the idea that Villanelle is annoyed because she is most likely thinking about the various ways in which she would love to kill this man, and knows she can't entertain a single one.

Eve would bet whatever money she has left to her name that that is exactly what the 26 year-old is thinking about. She wonders if Villanelle struggles with the thought herself; if Villanelle is capable of entertaining a thought process where killing isn't the knee-jerk reaction. Eve wonders if its possible. She stops biting her lip, there's no smile to hide anymore.

The bus stops in what Eve assumes to be the hub of Baltimore, Ireland. She sees a few establishments littered around the road - all with fading paint jobs, lacklustre and charming. Villanelle stands to her feet, and so Eve follows suit. She's sliding her coat on when she hears the man who had been occupying the seat next to them let out a howl. Eve whips her eyes to him - blood cold at the possibility of the his neck being slit open - to see his coffee spilt over the area of his still-spread legs. Villanelle is wearing a perfect mask of mock remorse.

"Oh, gosh!" Scottish, Eve recognizes immediately. "How clumsy of me! I sure am sorry, sir!"

He's just staring at her, lips pursed, and face red as Villanelle gives him a small wave and begins to depart the bus. He fixes his eyes on Eve instead, expectantly, as if he thinks Eve will offer to pat him dry or something. She just shrugs at him, before following the blonde off the bus.

* * *

"Well, I'll be damned! Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Maisie in the flesh!"

Eve is standing by the road, where Villanelle told her to wait with their luggage, but observing how the man in the doorway approaches Villan- _Maisie_?

He's leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, underneath a sign that reads _Abban's Automotive_ \- overalls covered in grease, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief that matches the color of his hair - and he's giving the blonde a toothy grin.

"Hard to say, Abban", Villanelle replies, still delivering an immaculate Scottish accent. "Given your age, I wouldn't be surprised if you mistook me for a pelican."

She's beaming at the man in a way that is completely unrecognizable, before he descends the steps and wraps her into a bear hug. Villanelle arm's hesitate at her side for only a moment, visible discomfort that would be unrecognizable to anybody but Eve, before she returns it.

The hug ends, but the man - Abban - continues to hold her at arms length.

"It's been a donkey's year since ye came around last! Thought I'd seen the last of ye!"

Eve's face is contorted in concentration, trying to listen as carefully as possible to dissect the man's heavy Irish accent, but she relaxes her face when his gaze travels to Eve.

"Ah, ye brought company this time around, eh! Does this mean yer fixing to hunker down for a proper stay this time?" He disregards Eve as quickly as he regarded her, but the action isn't impolite. The older woman quickly understands that he is sincerely overjoyed at the sight of Villanelle in front of him - it's something Eve can relate to.

"Ah, yes." Villanelle's casts her gaze upon Eve - sultry, but subtle. "That's my sister. _Rory_." Villanelle provides. Eve chokes, before she regains composure and offers the man a small wave. "Not much of a talker, though. Makes up in sweetness for what she lacks in words." Villanelle gives her a wink, taking advantage of Abban's momentary surprise.

"..Sister?" He asks, gaze now bouncing back and forth between the two women.

"Half." Villanelle answers. Eve is grateful that Villanelle has doubted her ability to carry out a Scottish accent, because she's not sure she can manage even a squeak right now. Villanelle shrugs, before continuing. "Diverse family."

"Ah, I see. Well, lets get the two of ye inside. It's getting cold out here. Cup of tea?" It's more of a statement, then a question. Before Villanelle can answer, he's making his way to grab Eve's luggage and move it inside the shop.

"Thank you." Eve manages a Scottish accent somewhat convincingly, as the man grabs her suitcase. She mentally pats herself on the back when Villanelle quirks an impressed eyebrow.

Eve hasn't spoken a word since they've sat down - she's just sitting silently, nursing her tea, while Abban and Villanelle catch up. She spends a majority of the time thinking about all the connections Villanelle must have all over the world - all the different perceptions people must have of her.

Maisie, Eve learns, is a 28 year-old Scottish woman who stumbled upon Baltimore last year during her travels. Her and Abban struck up a conversation in the diner down the road - drinking into the wee hours of the night after he chastised her ordering Scotch Whiskey in an Irish establishment. She stayed for three nights in vacant farmhouse on the back lot of his multi-acre property, before leaving abruptly - only leaving a note extending her gratitude, and promising she'd be around again.

Abban and Maisie converse as if they have been lifelong friends - relishing in a long overdue reunion. It doesn't surprise Eve in the least. She simply watches, with intense admiration for the blonde. Villanelle can wrap anybody around her finger - understand the cadence of their character, and adapt to what they want to see. Maisie is sweet, but snarky - warm, but quick-witted. Very similar to Abban. She can tell the engagement is refreshing for the old Irish man - a sincere fondness for the younger woman encapsulated within the conversation.

She wonders why the blonde was in Baltimore in the first place. Did she carry out a job here?

She recalls Villanelle's promise.

_I'll answer every one of your questions, to the best of my ability._

Eve has studied hundreds of killers, sociopaths and psychopaths. Her stomach turns when she remembers Villanelle falls somewhere inbetween the two categories, but of the two - Eve knows that Villanelle's ability to manipulate is unmatched. It bubbles up a familiar feeling of doubt. She wonders just how much of this _thing between th_ e two of them is real. She wonders if she'll truly know the extent of Villanelle - the vastness of everything that makes her.. well, her.

Eve doesn't know. What she does know is that there is an understanding between the two of them - one that is unmatched, and undeniable. In many ways, they are the same. Eve's stomach turns, but her heart flips too.

She realizes she's been staring wearily into her tea for an unkown amount of time, before she's snapped back into reality by the visual of Villanelle offering the man a seriously thick wad of cash.

Abban doesn't miss a beat before shaking his head, crossing his arms instead of reaching to accept the cash.

"I won't accept any of yer money, Maisie. You and I both know that farmhoue has been sittin' empty since you last occupied it."

Villanelle doesn't retract her offer, only further extends the money toawrds him.

"Contrary to the Irishmen in your blood, I know that kindness sometimes comes with a fee. We'll be staying longer this time - a week, maybe - so I'll need to borrow one of your trusty steeds as well." Villanelle nods towards one of the trucks sitting in the lot, outside the window, her gaze penetrating and unrelenting. "Please accept my thanks."

The man lets out a long exhale, before leaning forward and accepting the cash reluctantly. He shoves it into his pocket wordlessly, and grabs a key off the desk before offering it to the blonde.

"Red ford out front. All yours. She runs a little tired, but she's reliable."

Villanelles smiles a thank you, before Abban grabs their luggage and heads outside to load it into the old truck. Villanelle motions for Eve to follow, and Eve does.

It's dark out now, and Abban holds the driver door open so Villanelle can climb in. Eve catches glimpse of her rolling her eyes, as she saddles into the passenger seat.

"Maisie, the two of ye stay as long ye like, I mean it. And don't go runnin' off without a proper goodbye this time, alright?"

The blonde nods her promise, and he shuts their door.

* * *

They drive off into the darkness - onto a series of winding roads, further away from the little town hub, and further into the woods. It really is beautiful, Eve thinks, she should really be appreciating it.

The silence doesn't last a moment before the older woman opens her mouth.

" _Sisters_?!"

Villanelle makes no effort to contain her smirk. She looks small, in the huge cab of the truck. It's an interesting sight to Eve - the blonde looking small when she is usually so remiscent of a force, something big and inexplicable. Eve wonders how many people get to see her like this.

"It is better. If the Twelve comes asking, and the first descriptor they get is sisters. Most people would not immediately buy the 'sisters' thing."

"Mm." Eve considers it - it is smart.

"Unless Abban first decides to describe you the way I do. Then it will create a little bit of a problem."

Eve quirks an eyebrow, "and how would you describe me?"

"Beautiful Asian woman with amazing hair."

Eve swats her shoulder, ignoring the fluttering of her heart, and Villanelle feigns annoyance.

"Eve, I am driving!"

A beat passes. Eve isn't good at keeping her mouth shut for long.

"Do you think they'll come asking after us here? The Twelve?"

Villanelle's expression is unreadable. She considers it for a moment.

"No. No, I do not think so."

Eve accepts it. There's no sure-fire way to know. Not even Villanelle fully grasps the hold the Twelve has on everybody they sink their teeth into.

She has more questions, reserved for when they're more settled in.. but for now, she finds herself grasping to whatever ease Villanelle and her allowed in this moment - in this old, rickety truck.

"God, if we have to be sisters, couldn't you have at least named me after something a bit more exciting than the annoying daughter from Gilmore Girls?"

Villanelle's eyebrows pull together, confused, as she glances at Eve from her peripheral.

"Eve, what is a _Gilmore Girl_?"

Eve laughs - hard. At the absurdity of it. Of running away with an assasin to sourthern Ireland. Of leading a life that wouldn't make sense to any other person who dared to try and understand. Of entertaining the thought of explaining a CW sitcom to Villanelle in the midst of it all.

Villanelle can't help but laugh too.

* * *

They pull up to the farmhouse after night has fully fallen. It's not a far drive from town at all - but Villanelle pulled off to make a quick run into the conveinence store, grabbing them enough groceries to tide them over for tonight and tomorrow until they can make a proper run into town over the weekend.

Eve doesn't immediately move from the passenger seat when Villanelle jumps out and starts unloading their bags. She takes a moment to take in the scene.

The farmhouse is old and rustic - brown wood, lots of windows; a porch that wraps around the entirety of the home. Two rocking chairs to complete the scene of domesticity. Eve feels an emotion she can't fixate on, tries to picture Villanelle in the midst of an environment like this, and can't.

She gets out of the car once she notices the blonde's watchful eyes on her. She grabs their luggage and starts hauling it, following behind Villanelle who's arms are full with paper grocery bags.

"I thought you said you were just getting enough for tonight and tomorrow?"

Villanelle casts a confused glance at her, as she pushes the door open with her hip.

"Yes, Eve. This is dinner."

Eve is going to make some joke about feeding an army - but the interior the home halts any further words when Villanelle flicks on the light switch.

The inside is.. well, vintage. Checkered floor. Velvet couch. Fireplace in the corner. Old, wooden dining table in the corner. Old TV, hooked up to a VHS player. She notices two doors - a bathroom, and bedroom - she assumes. The farmhouse is entirely too spacious for a one bedroom, but she welcomes the feeling of not feeling contained into a small space like the studio apartment she lived in after Rome.

Villanelle immediately starts unloading the groceries in the kitchen - and Eve stands to watch in the door way. She's pulling out boxes of noodles, a bag of clams, bread, two bottles of wine - one white, one red.

Eve wants to kiss her.

"Please tell me only one of those is for cooking."

Villanelle only looks up briefly, offering a small smile, whilst pulling pots and pans out of cupboards around the small diamater of the kitchen. It's clear she's been here before.

"I know when you are tired, Eve. You are not tired now, hm?"

"Not at all." It's true.

"Yes. So you will be awake for a while, which means I will also be awake for a while." Villanelle pulls a cutting board down from where it's hanging above the oven, and places a few bulbs of garlic on it. "And if you are awake, that usually means you are talking. I assume, in this case, asking questions."

Eve rolls her eyes, but nods slowly. She's been yearning for this moment, since the first time she sets eyes on Villanelle's case file. It makes her throat close up.

"I think wine is only fitting for such a conversation, mm?" Villanelle smirks at her, and pulls a cutting knife out of the drawer to start mincing the garlic. "But first, I need to eat. Or else I will be of no use to you."

Eve wants to respond - say anything, do anything. But she is frozen; can't look anywhere but the knife. Can't hear anything but the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board over and over again.

It takes a second before Villanelle catches on - she slowly ceases the task, and gently puts the knife on the table before placing her palms on the table. Eve can feel Villanelle staring at her, but can't bring herself to meet her gaze.

"I- I think I'm going to shower. If you don't need any help." She gulps, crossing her arms, unable to bring her gaze to meet Villanelle's.

"No.. I do not need any help. The bathroom is the door on the left."

Eve is screaming at her body to move, but she stays stark still - still looking at the fucking knife.

"Eve."

Villanelle says her name so softly that Eve can't help but meet her gaze - it is delicate and pregnant with pain. She nods to the knife.

"You can take it with you, if you want."

Eve can hear something in the blonde's voice, even as she tries to speak affirmingly. Remorse? Regret? Pain? Maybe just pain. It spawns movement in Eve.

"No."

The blonde eyebrows furrow; she leans forward, her palms still supporting her on the counter. She's staring at Eve with pleading eyes - begging to know what the older woman is thinking.

"I don't need it."

Eve offers, and with that, she turns around.

She doesn't miss the sound of stillness that happens after her exit - the lack of movement in the kitchen. It isn't until Eve has finished fishing clothes and toiletries out of her bag that she hears Villanelle pick up the knife again, and continue on.

* * *

Knowing that she has unprecedented time with the blonde, Eve takes her time in the shower.

She washes her hair, and her body - cleaning the ten hours of travel right off.. and then, she just lets herself be; lets the water run over her until it turns her skin red, until there is no more hot water to be had.

When she steps out and looks at herself in the mirror, she's surprised at her reflection.

She's avoided mirrors for the past year or so - undereye bags became a permanent feature, and she swore she could find a new wrinkle every week if she really set her mind to it.

But now, she sees no such thing. She looks alive. Fresh-faced.

She stares for a really long time - long enough to lose track of it until the smell of fresh food seeps its way into the bathroom, and her stomach cries at her over its vacancy.

She towel-dries her hair - just enough for it to be not be dripping - before slipping into a sweater and some trousers, and is about to throw her curls into a haphazard bun when she decides against it. She wears her hair down.

When she emerges into the living room, Villanelle is sitting there - mindlessly curling noodles around her fork, glass of wine untouched in front of her. The table is set across from her.

The blonde straightens her posture when Eve clears her throat. She looks Eve up and down, eyes half-lidded as she watches the water droplets falling from her curls.

"You know, Eve," her voice is low and sultry when she speaks. Eve shudders. "I am a bit burnt out on killing for the time being, but if there's no hot water left before I go to sleep, you might just send me into another murderous streak."

Vilanelle winks, and Eve rolls her eyes before she makes her way to sit down at the table. She deserves that one - she seriously can't even guess how long she was in the bathroom for. Long enough for Villanelle to make a dinner that looks.. like it belongs in a Michelin star restaurant, Eve notices as she sits down across from her.

She raises her eyebrows at the masterpiece of noodles and clams on her plate.

"This looks.. incredible, Villanelle."

The blonde takes a sip of her wine. "It i _s_ incredible, Eve."

Eve narrows her eyes at the untouched plate of food in front of the blonde, wondering if she's speaking from pure confidence.

"Oh, I already had my first plate." The younger woman provides, following Eve's eyes. "You kept me waiting for a very long time." She pokes her lip out in a pout, which Eve ignores, and takes curls the noodles around her fork.

"Oh.." she says around a mouthful of noodles, "..my god?"

It's divine. Maybe more divine than anything she's even eaten before. She wonder if Villanelle held a chef hostage before killing him, or something.

"This is.. really good." Eve says around another mouthful, her body waking up with each bite.

Villanelle hums, smiling happily at Eve's approval, before doing the same.

They continue like that for a walk - eating without a word, sipping wine intermittently.

Eve sneaks glances at the assasin - she observes that Villanelle eats like she kills. She's hunched over her plate, shoveling pasta into her mouth like an animal with its prey.

It's actually kind of hot.

Eve hates herself, she decides, before leaning back and sipping her wine.

"So."

Villanelle looks at her, slurping up the last noodle from her fork, before leaning back in her chair as well.

"Yes, Eve? You have that look in your eye. You're either about to ask me something, or stab me again. I must say, I prefer the former."

Eve doesn't retort. She just leans forward, hand still on her wine glass, not breaking eye contact.

"Why are we here?"

"Mm.. big question. Metaphorically speaking, I'm not sure any one person can answer why we are on this Ear-.."

"Cut the shit, Villanelle. You said you'd answer my questions."

She rolls her eyes at Eve, before taking another sip of her wine.

"I didn't know that meant no fun along the way. Sorry, Kill Commander. Won't happen again."

She puts down her wine glass, and exhales through her nose. She softens, and Eve takes that as a confirmation that Villanelle is taking this as seriously as she is.

"This is the only place that I knew that we'd be safe. For now, at least. It is the only place that I have connections outside of the Twelve. The Twelve knows that I have a habit of returning to places. Creature of habit, I suppose." She shrugs, as if she's talking about eating too much sugar.. not returning to the places where she's brutally murdered people. "The Twelve has no idea that I've ever been here. Konstantin doesn't even know that I've been here."

Eve nods, absorbing each and every word Villanelle provides her. She considers, taking another sip of her wine, before recalling the question she had arrived at when they were speaking to Abban.

"Why _have_ you been here?"

Villanelle adjusts in her seat - a movement that could be qualified as a squirm - adverting her gaze before continuining.

"After I sh-.. after _Rome_ ," she restarts, "I was not sure what to do with myself. Before I arrived in Barcelona, I needed some time away to.. digest. the events that had unfolded. I wanted to try something different, something.. _normal_. I thought I would try being by myself for a few days, somewhere quiet. It is very quiet here," she gestures to the house with her wine glass, "if you have not noticed."

Eve knits her eyebrows together, sipping her wine like its water at this point, before responding. Sure, all of Villanelle's moves could be classified as unusual, but this is one that is truly out of character. She knows what Villanelle likes. Luxury. Hustle. Bustle. Loud. Busy. Moving. It didn't surprise Eve when she had heard Villanelle was in Barcelona - warm, subtropical, lively - but this does.

"And how did that go for you? The _normalcy_ , I mean?" Eve leans her elbows on the table, staring at the blonde fixedly.

"I got bored in a few days." She shrugs. "It turns out when you are trying to run from something, you shouldn't go somewhere quiet. You tend to just relive that thing, over and over." She is speaking nonchalantly, but Eve can feel the tenseness of her from across the table.

"Also. Too many chickens." The blonde breaks the tension as effortlessly as she created it, and Eve can't help but laugh. She smiles into her wine glass.

She is grateful Villanelle is being honest with her, but Rome still feels like an open wound - too raw to touch just yet. Eve demands answers, and she will get them, but she knows that she has time to get those answers. Everything isn't so constrained - not right now, at least.

"Why didn't we just steal a car? Drive as far away as possible?"

Villanelle quirks an eyebrow - surprise apparent in her eyes. As much as Villanelle surprises Eve, Eve surprises Villanelle.

The older woman continues. "I mean, why risk the train stations? The CCTV, being trapped in an contained space for hours at a time?"

Villanelle nods, understanding Eve's prodding as if she had already considered this as well.

"While I do not believe the Twelve's focus is immediately on us, it is not worth the potential of leaving a trail. A stolen car is an easy trail to follow as soon as it is reported." She moves her fork around on her plate, nudging her noodles but not making moves to take another bite. "I asked you to meet me at the West Entrance of Liverpool Station because it is more sparsely surveilled - not so many cameras. As long as we manage to not be seen on CCTV leaving London, it is a lot more effort to sit through surveillance footage of every station in the surrounding cities. Not that the Twelve would not _not_ do that, but their focus is on Konstantin before their focus is on us." The blonde drains the rest of the wine in her glass. "If there is one thing they do not like, it is being wronged."

"Wouldn't that immediately put the focus on you, though?" Eve shoots back, her mouth trying to keep up with her brain. "I mean if anybody has an idea of where Konstantin is, it's you."

Villanelle nods slowly, sighing - slouching down further in her chair.

"I called him."

"What?" Eve is confused. Seriously confused.

"After we parted ways on the bridge, I went back to my room. The place I was staying in London. They bugged it, Eve. They knew Konstantin had been up to something before Paul told him. I knew that they had bugged me ever since Rhian showed up while we were dancing."

Eve stares at Villanelle, waiting for her to continue. The blonde relents.

"They are always keeping tabs on me, of course. But this was.. different. At first, I was offended that they thought I was stupid enough to not notice." Villanelle rolls her eyes. "But then, I thought it was something I could use to my advantage. So when I got back, after the bridge, I called him. He answered. Seriously, what an idiot!" Villanelle guffaws, shaking her head. "So stupid, that man. I mentioned something about wanting to go with him after all - I told him that I would make my own way to Cuba, and we would be in touch once I arrived."

Eve's confusion turns to realization, as she gets up to grab the wine bottle off the kitchen table. She pours for Villanelle first, who holds out her glass expectantly, before topping herself off generously. She takes a sip - thinks of how deep they're in, thinks the wine tastes like blood.

"So, Cuba? That's where Konstantin is heading?"

"Mhm. I made sure to mention it. Helene was thrilled, I'm sure. Probably about to burst the seams of that tight little pant suit."

Eve considers her next question carefully - considers what Villanelle must have felt betraying Konstantin, wonders if she felt anything at all.

"Was that hard for you?"

Eve holds her breath, as Villanelle's grip on her wine glass tightens. Asking Villanelle about who's and where's and what's is one thing, asking her about her emotions.. is a completely different realm. Eve is no stranger to this.

She shrugs, and rests her forearms on the table.

"I did what I had to do buy us time, Eve. They know Konstantin is heading to Cuba, and that's where they think I'm heading too." She stills a bit, bites her lip, as if she's considering how to best say whatever it is she wants to in this moment. "After realizing that Konstantin killed Kenny, I knew that he was not.. _family_."

The word choice lingers like a napalm bomb above their heads. Eve can't help the shocked expression that she stares at Villanelle with. Is that what the blonde wants?

"Do not look at me like that, Eve." The blonde hardens; maintains her eye contact with the older woman. "Maybe you do not think I know what is. Maybe I do not know, in the same way that you do, but I do know that family does not betray one another. Konstantin loved Carolyn, so he kills her son? What bullshit is that?"

Eve's mouth is agape. Scenes of her entire history with Villanelle play out behind her eyes. Villanelle castrating Anna's husband. Villanelle instilling such severe PTSD in Niko that he had to be put in a home. Villanelle shooting Konstantin. Eve wonders what the blonde means when she uses the word 'family' - she wants to pick apart the word, dissect it, have Villanelle spell it out for her. 

Instead, she asks, "Did you consider Anna your family?"

Villanelle's eyes are cold - but less hardened, her mouth settles into a straight line. She takes a big gulp of wine, before leaning further over the table, close enough for Eve to smell her, to see the flecks of green in her eyes.

"No. I did not consider Anna my family, I can not even be sure I wanted family at that time. I just wanted.. her."

Eve's leans forward too.

"You loved her?"

"No."

The word comes out sharp and soft at the same time, and shocks Eve to her core. She leans back in her seat, eyes searching the blonde's face.

The blonde leans back too.

"I did not love Anna. I thought I did. I just wanted her. I wanted to possess her - in every way. I wanted her to be mine. I did not care what she wanted if it did not involve me."

The words are jarring, reminiscent of words Eve heard before she felt a bullet in her back, but the way Villanelle is relaying them are soft. Soft and sharp - rounded out. It is jarring because she is telling the truth.

"You told me, in Rome. That I did not know what love is. You were right. Love is a choice, even when it doesn't feel like one."

Eve doesn't realize there are tears in her eyes, until she notices the ones in Villanelle's. They're both playing at stoicism - and they're both losing.

They look at each other, unblinking.

"So that's what you think of when you think of family? Love? Choice?"

"Yes, Eve. Everybody belongs somewhere - that is hard to to stomach for some people. Even those who are completely unloveable.. belong somewhere. We can choose where that is. We can choose who it's with, yes?"

Villanelle's lips are pursed, and Eve realizes that it is not just Villanelle answering her questions. They are answer each other's.

Eve nods, dumbly.

"What else do you think of.. when you think of family?"

The blonde doesn't miss a beat - eyes glassy with tears that threaten to fall, but won't. Her face is still hard - trained that way - and it reminds Eve of the time she cupped that very face in her kitchen, wondering if the assasin would kill her that night.

"You." She whispers.

Eve's body responds before her brain does. Before she can process what she's doing, she's out of her chair, and in front of Villanelle in a couple of strides. The blonde is looking at her wide-eyed, as if she doesn't know if Eve is going to kiss her or slap her - she allows herself the vulnerability. Eve kneels down in front of Villanelle, and cups her face in her hands. They're both shaking.

Tears fall freely from the older woman's eyes, and she makes no motion to wipe them away. She just whispers through them.

"I meant what I said on the bridge. You are _so_ many things." Eve is trembling, she can't help it - Villanelle is just looking down at her dumbly, shocked, unmoving. "Loveable is one of them."

As soon as the words leave her lips, Villanelle is scooping the trembling woman into her lap. Eve straddles her - and thinks its funny how even when her body is on autopilot, they fit together beautifully. Villanelle is hugging her tightly to her body, and Eve's arms are looped around the blonde's neck - a lover's embrace - and she's pressing kisses to the tears underneath the younger woman's eyes. They're embraced so tightly that Eve thinks if she paid too much attention to it - it might be painful, but where there is pain, there is peace afterwards. She rests her chin on Villanelle's head, and soothes the hair down on the back of the blonde's head.

"Thank you, Eve." It's a whisper into Eve's chest - broken, and earnest. Eve just squeezes harder.

They stay like that for a while - wordless and trembling until their breathing evens out, until their breaths are synched. Eve is in a daze until Villanelle wipes her cheek against Eve's shoulder, and pulls away to look up at her. Her eyes are shimmering under the dim light overhanging the dining table, and Eve can't remember a time she's seen her look so _open_.

"It is why we are here, you know." She swallows, Eve can feel it. "You can leave whenever you want. You do not have to stay, if you change your mind."

The cogs click in Eve's head, and her heart drops _down, down, down_ until it resembles something more like a rock than a muscle.

That is why they're not nearly as far away as they could be - as they should be, probably. Villanelle is preparing for Eve to leave. Villanelle is giving it up as an option - giving instead of taking. Eve wonders if this is an _I love you_ , and it makes her dizzy.

Eve breathes in deeply, kisses the top of the blonde's head, before slowly moving off her lap. She feels Villanelle's eyes on her back, burning holes, while she makes her way back to the other side of the table. Eve lowers herself into her chair, continues the ritual of taking gulps of wine, before crossing her arms and leaning back.

The room aches with silence - like the world is cursing her for putting space between them. She wants to comfort Villanelle, to soothe that look in her eyes - to tell her she's not going anywhere. But there is still too much answered - and like Villanelle, she will uphold her end of the bargain. She will not make promises she can't keep.

"If I left, what would you do?"

Villanelle tucks into herself - tucks her knees into her chest, and wraps her arms around them. She rests her chin on her knees.

"I do not know. I can not just.. make a clean split from the Twelve. There's no such thing. Unless you want to end up in a body bag. I need to keep moving while I," she gestures her arms around lackadaisically, "figure it out."

"So you don't want to kill any more?"

"Not for them, no."

The choice of verbiage doesn't not go unacknowledged.

"You like killing, though."

It doesn't qualify as a question - but Eve doesn't feel drawn to asking questions she knows the answers to.

"Mm, yes. I am good at it." Villanelle rests her chin back on her knee. "But I do not like killing for other people anymore, I think. So.. _needless_. I think.. that I can do other things."

Eve observes Villanelle carefully - understands that the blonde is trying to pick apart how she feels in the same moments she is answering Eve.

There are stretches of time, long and winding, that Eve forgets the blonde is very much walking the tightrope of the psychopathy scale. Where she is on it, is something Eve may spend the rest of her life trying to figure out. Two months ago, if anybody would have asked, she would have told them that Villanelle was a full-blown psychopath - as clear as the sky is blue.

Now, as she watches the cloud of confusion that plays in the blonde's eyes, she knows it is much more nuanced than that.

"Do you ever try to picture your future?"

Villanelle considers, she picks up her wine glass, and rotates it in her hand - chin still propped on her knee.

"I have never thought about my future, until recently. I don't think I.. fully understand the concept."

She takes a sip, and sets the glass back on the table, before continuing.

"I see your face, too." 

Eve inhales deeply and runs her hands over her face.

"You said you got bored here in a few days. What would our future look like then? _Normal_?"

Villanelle meets her eyes and they're on fire - frustrated and curious.

"What does your future look like, Eve?"

The question is rhetorical, Eve realizes, when Villanelle continues.

"You told me when we were dancing, and again on the bridge, you don't want that stuff anymore. It doesn't make sense for you, does it? I mean, seriously. This is what you want?" Villanelle gestures to their surroundings. "A quiet life, tucked away from the world? You would get bored in a second. You said it yourself, we are the same - maybe in more ways than you would like to admit. More than just our monsters."

Eve wants to feel defensive, wants to have some sort of argument to fall back on - but she doesn't. She knows why Villanelle is frustrated - god, at least Villanelle owns that fact that she is fucked up. Eve will walk the wrong direction, a thousand times over, if it means avoiding the truth of who she is. She stays quiet, so the blonde continues.

"Yes, I crave chaos - I can't imagine a life without it. I crave quiet too, though, Eve. Somebody to come home to after the chaos. Somebody to understand. Somebody that _I_ can understand."

_Somebody to watch movies with._

Eve bites the inside of her lip.

"You're right."

Villanelle's eyes narrow - the air between them energized.

"You're right, okay?! You are _right_. I have spent a lot of time running, playing catch-up. I don't know _what_ I want, or even what I'm _capable_ of, and that's fucking terrifying. You're right!"

Eve is yelling, but understands that she is not yelling at Villanelle, but at herself. The blonde just happens to be the recipient - and Eve wishes she could count just how many times she has misdirected her anger at Villanelle, when she has been angry at herself.

Eve thinks it's funny, too - yelling across a dinner table when just minutes before they were curled up in each other's arms. But she thinks it's only makes sense for the two of them. Highs, lows, everything in between - it's should feel hard, but it doesn't and that's what scares Eve.

What felt hard was spending thirteen years in a marriage where she was excited to go to work every day, and dreaded coming home.

Eve is breathing heavily, the wine glass trembling in her hands. It feels like an excorcism of sorts. These words have been rattling around in her brain for a year - making their way to the forefront of her brain, only for her to tuck them away each away each night - bubbling over. But now, they've been released - she can't take them back, and when she sees the way the blonde is looking at her, she doesn't want to.

Villanelle is regarding Eve with open eyes, clear with acceptance and some form of understanding - or her best attempt at understanding. She's stark still, as she waits for Eve to continue.

Eve knows that in the places that the two of them are the same, in those some places, the two are different.

Villanelle accepts who she is - monster and all. She doesn't hide from it.

Eve denies who she is - monster and all. She runs from it, full fucking speed.

Not any more.

When Eve doesn't open her mouth to continue, Villanelle steps in.

"Can I ask _you_ a question, Eve?"

Eve swallows, nods - tries to brace herself.

"After Rome, after Raymond - how did you feel?"

Miserable. Angry. Suicidal. _Bored_. So _bored_. Eve thinks.

Eve knows that Villanelle isn't asking about how Eve fared adapting to a life in hiding, or even necessarily about she felt after nearly losing her life. Villanelle is asking about how she felt after taking a man's life - gruesomely.

"I felt.." Eve considers, hesitates, knowing that telling the truth is taking a plunge. But they've already underwater, what does it matter to dive a little deeper? "Bored. Don't get me wrong. I was so _fucking_ angry at you, Villanelle. I was so angry at you for what you did - what you made me do."

Eve breathes in, sips her wine, exhales. Dives deeper.

"But I realized I wasn't necessarily angry about you forcing an axe into my hand. I mean, I was angry about that too - that _sucked_. But, no. I was angry at you for you forcing me to face myself. To understand who I am. What I'm capable of. Killing Raymond.. killed a part of me - whatever innocence I still had to cling to. For weeks afterwards, all I could see was his face. Bloody, lifeless, nearly split open. I felt.. disgusted, sick. I felt.. _exhilarated_."

There it is.

The word a knot in Eve - unties a string that had been keeping her tightly wound.

She looks to Villanelle, and wants to cry when the blonde when is looking at her with loving concern. She knows, deep in her heat, that Villanelle is the only person that could look at her like that after the admission she just made.

"God," Eve wipes a tear from her eye, chuckles into in her glass of wine as she takes a sip, "I'm fucked up."

Villanelle smiles at her, and raises her glass for a toast.

"Welcome to the club."

They clink their glasses, teary-eyed and smiling, before leaning back into their seats - continuing a conversation that will extend long after its over.

They fall into a silence - easy and inconsequential. There's safety in it - in knowing that they have created a bubble where they can finally just _be_. For now, at least.

Villanelle is the first to break it this time.

"I killed my mother."

Eve freezes.

"I went to Gryzmet, before I came back to London. I killed her."

Villanelle's expression is unreadable - empty and miles away. Eve wants to reach across the table and pull her back into their world, into this realm - where there are no mothers to be killed, and no sinister old men to split open with axes - but she doesn't move. She just waits.

"I.. do not think I had a choice."

Eve finally finds her voice.

"Did she deserve it?"

"Yes."

Eve nods, her mouth dry and her vision blurry - she wonders if its from the wine, or the anger bubbling in her chest wondering about the unspoken trauma she knows Villanelle's mother inflicted upon her.

"Well. Good, then."

Villanelle looks at her quizically, her mouth open in an almost-laugh, and she shakes her head.

"You are.. something, Eve Polastri."

"Mm."

Eve doesn't offer much in reply, she knows the blonde isn't done offering whatever piece of information she's giving Eve. The older woman realizes that's what it is - offering. Eve didn't have to ask, didn't have to make any attempts at prying to retrieve it. Villanelle is telling her willingly. Eve wonders if it's because she feels she _needs_ to get it out, if Villanelle even feels things like that, or if she's trying to comfort Eve. Match her monster. Eve figures it a mixture of both.

The blonde drains the rest of her wine, and continues. Her cheeks are a bit flushed now - after they've split a bottle between the two of them - and Eve thinks she looks beautiful. Too beautiful to touch, almost.

"When you came to my apartment in Paris, you said you wondered what I felt when I killed someone. It used to feel.. _exhilarating_." Eve doesn't miss the way Villanelle releases the word with same cadence Eve did. "It used to make me feel _something_ when everything else made me feel nothing. Sure, sometimes it was.. annoying, or inconvenient - depending on who I was killing. But it was a light at the end of the tunnel - a glimmer of excitement amongst all the boredom."

Eve relates, but she doesn't say so. She thinks Villanelle knows.

`

The blonde trails her fingers around the rim of her wine glass.

"But after I killed _her_ , everything changed. It's like I was.. broken. She broke me. I became sloppy, and inconsistent, and killing just felt.. _shitty_."

Eve wonders just how many emotions the blonde is trying to wrap up in the word shitty - _remorseful, coated in guilt, lackluster_?

Villanelle laughs bitterly.

"It's funny. That she is still fucking up my life from beyond the grave."

"Moms." Eve offers, with a shrug.

Villanelle laughs at that, close-mouthed and quiet.

Eve's eyes travel away from the blonde, and catch sight of the clock in the kitchen behind her.

_12:18 AM._

Jesus.

If somebody had asked to recount the amount of time they had spent talking around that dinner table, Eve couldn't have began to answer. One hour? Twenty hours?

She supposes four hours seems about right.

Grasping the time spurs a response from her body.

The older woman stands up to stretch - her bones releasing a series of cracks, tension and tiredness - and she stumbles a bit.

Now that she's standing, it seems her body is deciding to remind that she did indeed drink half a bottle of wine.

Eve lets out a tipsy yawn, before letting her eyes fall on Villanelle's.

She's smiling up at her - eyes shiny and soft, an impossible scene of domesticity - and Eve has trouble understanding how somebody can look so sweet and hot at the same time.

Eve wants to kiss her, wrap her up, take her to bed and never let her leave.

They remain locked in one another's gaze, Eve standing and Villanelle sitting - and it causes a familiar warmth to spread through the older woman - it starts bellow her belly button, spreads through her thighs, up her arms.

Eve is about to step forward, emboldened by the wine, when Villanelle stands up - shattering whatever daze the older woman had fallen into.

Eve blinks as Villanelle collects their plates and their empty glasses, as regards Eve with that same small smile.

"You are tired, Eve. You should rest."

She hears Eve's protest before Eve voices it, and silences her.

"Time is something we have now. I am not going to run off, okay?"

Villanelle pauses to look at her seriously, and Eve nods.

Satisifed, Villanelle turns around with their dirtied silverware, and starts heading into the kitchen.

The older woman trails behind her.

"You cooked, let me clean."

The blonde's back is to her as she sets the dishware into the sink.

"Nonsense. It is late, we can take care of these tomorrow. I need my beauty rest."

Villanelle turns around, and leans against the counter, her palms laid flat on either side of her. She's smirking at Eve, and her sultry gaze is not doing anything to help the fire Eve feels in her belly.

"Although I do not need it. I am already very beautiful."

Eve deflates. She rolls her eyes with a smile.

It's impressive how much the blonde can just _build, build, build_ just to shatter the older woman.

Eve leans against the door frame.

"So, I guess I will get ready for bed, then."

"I'm sleeping on the couch."

Villanelle blurts, assertively. She has a troubled look in her eye, unnameable. The way she says it though is assertive - not something to be argued, or questioned.

It's.. confusing.

Villanelle sure knows how to shatter Eve - in more ways than one.

"Ooo-kay.."

Villanelle nods triumphantly, as if she's a soldier - and not the vulnerable woman who was holding Eve just hours prior.

"Well, I'm just gonna.."

Eve jabs a thumb at the direction of the bathroom, before turning around slowly, and making her way towards it.

She splashes water on her face - very, _very_ cold water - and tries to understand the younger woman's sudden change in character.

Weren't they past this?

The push and pull - haven't they surrendered?

Eve is confused and annoyed, and brushes her teeth in a way that can only be described as aggressive. She didn't even know that was possible, but figures she can make anything look aggressive if she really wants to.

Is Villanelle having second-thoughts? Doubts?

It's a fear - stupid and looming, one that serves to make Eve feel like an insecure teenager. But a fear none-the-less.

That Villanelle won't want Eve, now that she has her.

The older woman marches out of the bathroom, maybe a little too trumphantly to be taken seriously, and halts in the doorway of the living room.

Villanelle is sat criss-cross applesauce on the couch. She's dressed down into a white t-shirt and underwear, and has thrown her hair into a messy bun - showing off the length of her neck. The blonde is biting her lip, attention focused on the crossword (Eve assumes the same one from the train), and she's tapping the eraser again the paper - focused, and apparently unaware of Eve's presence altogether.

Eve knows what she's doing and seriously, fuck _her_.

The older woman clears her throat, holding her chin high, when the blonde quirks an eyebrow in her direction. 

"You know, Eve, if you want my attention, you-"

"You said that you feel things when you're with me. What does that mean?"

Eve cuts her off, the words coming out a little sharper than intended. The blonde just looks at her eyes, wide-eyed.

The blonde's eyes clear and soften - like this is the one question she was prepared for, something she'd been thinking about.

"I do not feel like Villanelle when I am with you."

Eve pauses.

"Who do you feel like?"

"Oksana."

And Eve shatters. She realizes that it is not a bad thing. Things have to be broken, so that they can be rebuilt. All of the feelings that built up - the insecurity, the confusion, the doubt - melt away as the blonde returns a gaze that can only be summed up as: confirmation.

Eve swallows, and closes the space between them - both metaphorically and physically - with only a couple brave strides. 

She doesn't pause. She doesn't hesitate in front of the blonde like she has so many times before. She simply leans down, cups the blondes cheeks in her hand and tilts her head, and kisses her - gently, and full of confirmation.

It doesn't last long - long enough for the younger woman to realize what is happening, and return the kiss only a moment before Eve breaks it. It is warm and delicate - the complete opposite of the kiss they shared on the bus. 

Eve pulls away, the blonde's cheeks still cupped between her hands, and Villa- _Oksana_ is looking at her lips - eyes filled to the brim with longing, wanting, yearning. 

"Goodnight.. Oksana."

Eve whispers gently, delivering one more kiss to the blonde's forehead, before turning around and heading for the bedroom.

She has her hand on the doorknob, but decides she deserves one last glance at the blonde after the act of bravery she just exhibited. When she glances over her shoulder, Oksana is just staring at her - dumb, open-mouthed, and wide-eyed. Eve tosses her a wink before entering into the room, and shutting the door behind her. 

Maybe a little push and pull is inevitable. 

When Eve falls into bed, she doesn't stay awake long. She doesn't pine; she doesn't ponder. She knows she is exactly where she needs to be - where _they_ need to be. 

Eve falls into a sleep that is both peaceful and easy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe that this one is ever longer than the last. so much to unpack between these two - it's hard to trim any fat! i hope it's not excessive, and that ya'll are able to enjoy it without it testing your patience. again, thank you so, SO much for reading! your comments have been so encouraging, and have made this writing journey a hell of a lot more fun! sending well wishes to each and every one of you!
> 
> NSFW at the end! ;)

Eve learns a couple of things about Villa- _Oksana?_ , on their second day of cohabitation.

(Eve remembers the first time she called the blonde by her birth name, and makes a mental note to have a conversation with the younger woman to understand what she wants before mentally renaming her in her brain.)

First, she learns that Villanelle is a morning person.

When Eve wakes up at 9 A.M., groggy and tranquil, she stumbles out of the bedroom to find the couch vacant. A blanket strewn upon it, and pillow still deflated from the younger woman resting her head on it. Eve's eyes travel the room, and panic begins to clench at her chest when the blonde is no where to be found. Eve, itchy with anxiety, heads into the kitchen for a glass of water. When she enters, the smell of coffee hits her.

On the counter, there's a yellow post-it covered in loopy script - _On a run. Around the property, not out of the country. God, calm down, Eve. There's coffee in the microwave. X_

Eve rolls her eyes - annoyed at Villanelle's antics, and the fact that she knows Eve better than she knows herself at times. Eve glances at the microwave. Inside, there is a mug - waiting for her patiently. She hits the :30 second button on the microwave, and fills a glass of water - downing it before the microwave beeps. 

She grabs her coffee and settles on the couch where the blonde slept. She takes a sip, eyes traveling around the room, before settling on the pillow. Eve traces her fingers over it absentmindedly before she realizes it what she's doing - she pulls her hand away, as if the pillow burned her, and settles for gripping the mug with both hands.

She notices the house is oddly warm - pleasant and comfortable, but toeing a line into uncomfortable territory. She heard the blonde flick on the gas heater late last night, and she can still hear the gentle hum of it now. Before she moves to turn it off, the blonde bursts through the door.

Eve lets her eyes trails over the younger woman - Villanelle is still panting somewhat heavily from her run, glistening with sweat. She's wearing the same white shirt she slept in, black cargo pants, and combat boots - Eve briefly ponders about how the blonde fit those into her backpack but not for long because Villanelle looks.. well, she looks.. _hot_.

"Good morning, Eve!" Villanelle places her hands on her hips, and takes a step towards the older woman. The chipperness of the blonde's voice surprises Eve a bit, who assumes it must be runner's high or whatever. Eve tried to take up jogging once - it lasted a good two days, two days filled of relentless complaining to poor Niko.

_Why run when you can just walk? What's wrong with walking? Why be in pain when you can just not be in fucking pain?_

"Morning." Eve manages, it comes out coarse and she decides it's probably a good time to tear her eyes away from the sweat glistening on the blonde's toned upper arms.

"How is the coffee?" Tearing her eyes away is of no use, Eve realizes, when the blonde leans over the back of the couch - invading Eve's space and senses. She can feel Villanelle labored breathing on her neck, smell her sweat, and Eve kicks herself when she finds it a turn-on.

She clears her throat, putting a bit of space between them, and turning her body to half-face the younger woman.

"It's.. perfect, actually. Just how I like it." Eve says, truthfully. She takes another sip, before locking eyes with the blonde. "Are you going to have some?"

Villanelle shakes her head, and moves from a leaning position to a standing one, palms still resting on the backframe of the couch. "No, caffeine makes me weird."

Eve raises her eyebrows at that.

" _Caffeine_ makes you weird?"

Eve scoffs at that - cutting off people's penises, that's all fine and good, but caffeine.. that's what makes the blonde feel weird?

Villanelle sticks her tongue out at Eve before continuing, "It makes me too.. motivated. I drink it sometimes." She shrugs. "One time, I drank coffee before carrying out a hit on a target - and I accidentally killed three people instead of just the one I was supposed to. Konstantin was not happy about that." Villanelle clicks her tongue, as if she was caught doing some harmless - stealing candy out of a candy jar. "You know, you think I'd get rewarded for exceeding expectations, but that was not the case."

Eve laughs, and decides that must be a story for another time when shes the blonde making her way to the bathroom. Villanelle stops to fish out some things from her backpack - travel size shampoo and conditioner - before turning to Eve.

"Are you hungry?"

Eve's stomach responds before she does - groans in moment that feels a bit too sitcomy to be real. Vilanelle quirks an eyebrow.

"I will take that as a yes. Do not worry, I will fix us breakfast once I am no longer filthy."

"I can make us breakfast." Eve interjects. "You cooked for us last night."

Villanelle sucks her teeth, and leans against the doorframe, hands in pockets.

"I watched you for a long time, Eve. Long enough to know that you survived off of microwave meals and Moustache's shepherds pie. I can not say that I am confident in your ability to cook."

Eve looks at her, offended, and mouth gape. She's had nearly forty years of life experience - she can manage some fucking eggs, thank you.

(She chooses to not remember the countless times she's burnt toast in the morning while checking work e-mails, or set off fire alarms trying to surprise Niko for their anniversaries. She also chooses not to acknowledge the fact that she's offended over Villanelle's jab at her cooking, and not the fact that Villanelle watching her for an unspecified amount of time doesn't not bother her to the same degree. Does not bother her at all, really.)

"I'm making breakfast." Eve asserts.

Villanelle relents, mouths a silent ' _Okay_ ' before turning around and heading into the bathroom.

Eve finishes her coffee, and stands up. Now that the blonde is not taking up her attention, the older woman realizes just how warm the room is. She moves to flick off the gas heater, before trotting into the kitchen.

She pours the remaining coffee in the pot into her cup and takes a sip before scanning the fridge for its contents.

She pulls out eggs, jam, and strawberries that the younger woman had purchased the night before.

Eve can't fuck up eggs - that is one thing she's sure about.

By the time she's setting the table - a spread of scrambled eggs, toast, jam, and strawberries that Eve may feel a little too proud of - Villanelle emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in the same towel Eve used last night.

Eve flushes at the sight - the towel wrapped around the blonde's body, clinging in places that Eve has only fantasized about touching - and opens her mouth to comment, when Villanelle lets the towel pool around her waist - leaving her upper body completely bare - and starts fishing through her backpack, knees straddling the decades-old carpet beneath them.

Eve sputters, and to her dismay, doesn't manage a single word.

Villanelle looks at her, innocently but victorious - the face of somebody who won a rigged carnival game.

"Eve, I am flattered my body is drawing such a.. _response_.. from you, but surely you have seen a naked woman before?"

Eve stills, flushed and hot, unbearably hot, still not managing a response.

Villanelle's body is.. insane. Curvy and toned, shiny with water droplets racing down her hips. Eve curses them, can't believe she's jealous of a fucking _element_. She tries to sturdy herself, and decides the wall directly above Villanelle's head is a very fascinating place to look.

"I know you were with Moustache for quite some time, but you _have_ slept with a woman before, no?"

Eve doesn't respond. Her eyes don't move from the wall.

When Villanelle is silent for a moment, Eve dares a glance - the blonde's eyes are alit with a new fire, one Eve hasn't seen before, astounded and overflowing with desire. The blonde blinks, and shakes her head, as if she's trying to steady herself as well.

Hm. Maybe Villanelle is truly at Eve's mercy, just as much as she is at hers.

Villanelle pulls a a plaid, tan button up over her head, before pulling on trousers of a similar pattern. She's running over the towel through her hair when she finally replies, her eyes still adrift.

"Wow, that is surprising, Eve. You just seem so.. _gay_."

Eve clears her throat, before sitting at the table, and gulping her coffee likes it's an elixir that will allow her to think properly.

She doesn't miss the way Villanelle flicks the heater back on on her way to the table, and Eve raises an eyebrow.

The room is more than warm enough - surely there's no way the younger woman is cold.

Before Eve can inquire, the blonde is hovering over the table, eyeing the food before raising her eyebrows, impressed.

"Wow, Eve. Once again, you have proved me wrong."

Eve rolls her eyes, as Villanelle loads her plate up with an outrageous amount of food.

"They're just eggs, asshole."

She mutters, and Villanelle smiles in response.

They eat quietly - well, at least Eve does.

The sound of Villanelle crunching down four pieces of toast is not so quiet.

Eve just looks on, amazed, as the blonde demolishes her plate before excusing herself to go cook up some more eggs. But not before she grabs Eve's coffee cup on the way to refill it.

Eve makes a mental note to make the entire carton next time.

* * *

The second thing Eve learns about Villanelle that day is that the assasin really does not like the cold.

They go on a walk after breakfast.

It's a completely different experience seeing the farm in the daytime - as opposed to the night.

It's crisp out - Eve is wearing a beige sweater, and purple beanie and Villanelle has thrown a thick coat on over her shirt.

The farm is surrounded by rolling hills - endless scenes of greenery, with animals littered in the distance. If Eve squints, she can make out what must be Abban's house farther down the acreage. Behind the house, the ocean glimmers - vast and inviting. It provides Eve with a sense of freedom - how open the area is, and even though they are very far from free, she feels that way - here with Villanelle.

Their hands are in their pockets, and they stroll along peacefully - very closely, almost touching but somehow not.

"Were you cold last night?"

Eve prods, thinking about the heater being kicked on for ten hours straight.

"No," Villanelle provides, looking off into the distance, "I was as snug as the bug in the rug, as they say."

Eve laughs - genuinely laughs - which causes the blonde to stare into her profile, entertained and confused.

"What?"

"Snug as a bug in a rug."

The younger woman rolls her eyes, and buries her hands further into her pockets.

"Well, whatever the bug is, I was it."

Eve nudges her with her shoulder. They're walking slowly, not rushed - it's probably the first time they've walked like this. Not running from something or to something. Just existing.

The domestic atmosphere of all of it is.. making Eve all too aware of the heartbeat in her chest.

She wonders if getting a taste of it will destroy her when the week is over, or only prove to her that she made the right decision by coming.

"I noticed you like the heater."

Villanelle shrugs, noncommittally, eyes still fixed on the ocean in the distance.

"I like to be comfortable."

Eve accepts it - assumes its as simple as that. She figures there can't be too much of a story about like the heater to be on. She just wanted to know. Many things about Villanelle intrigued her - and she now has the ability to figure those things out. She plans to take advantage - no matter how big or small said thing is.

They stroll on quietly, shoulders nudging every now again, before Villanelle breaks the silence gently.

"We were always cold. In Grizmet."

It's something that could be classified as an off-hand remark, but the way the blonde relays it seems considered and careful.

"We were shit poor. My dad refused to turn the heat on. He would chop wood endlessly, but the fireplace could only do so much. I never slept in the winter - I would just lay awake, shivering. Watching my breath as I exhaled."

Villanelle shakes her head, Eve cant tell she's biting the inside of her cheek.

"I was constantly getting sick in winter time. Pytotyr too - always crying. Such a baby." She smiles, before continuing. The name Pyotyr brings a thousand questions into Eve's brain - she pushes them down, saves them for later. "I would used to try and crawl in bed with my mom and dad every night, squish in between them. My dad would always let me stay, but eventually my mom would wake up, and throw me out. Bitch."

Eve's throat closes - she thinks of a little Villanelle, small and shivering and unprovided for. Even as a child, Eve has trouble imagining Villanelle as frail - but she imagines she was, in more ways than the adults around her could care to notice.

"Anyways, it sucked. Russia has a shit climate to begin with, but that didn't anything to curb my dislike for the cold. Even now, I try to avoid cold climates whenever I can. I love Paris, that is why I lived there, but in the winter I would always leave.. for Spain, or Italy, somewhere coastal."

She pauses, before adding.

"Plus, I am way hotter with a tan."

Eve lets out a quiet laugh as she considers this.

She loops her arm through Villanelle's - the blonde slows for a moment, before regaining her stride. She feels her arm tighten around Eve's.

"That should serve as testament to how much I like you, Eve. I spent a lot of time in shitty-ass London, just to be near you. God, that city is drab."

Eve rolls her eyes, and feels her heart flutter. There was a time when the thought would make her throw up, but she can reflect upon it differently now. Now that Villanelle's pursuit is no longer, well.. a pursuit. It's not obsession anymore. It's something much more than that. Something a lot more dangerous, probably.

"It doesn't bother me. Growing up in Pennsylvania and all."

Eve shrugs, and Villanelle is staring at her profile, eyes not attached to the scenery any more at all.

"Did you have a nice childhood, Eve?"

Eve lets her gaze bounce around, chewing on the question, before answering.

"Yeah, it was fine. Really.. typical, if I'm being honest. I grew up in a suburb in Pennsylvania. My parents sacrificed a lot to come here. I grew up with the pressure that I think most children of immigrants experience. They wanted me to grow up and do what they were doing, or something at least on par - doctor, lawyer.. you get the jist. They weren't thrilled with the path I carved out for myself - my job, marrying Niko, well.. all of it, really."

Villanelle is still staring at her, relentlessly, and Eve finally turns to look at her. Their faces are a little too close for Eve to properly concentrate with their arms still linked together.

"Were you happy? With Niko?"

The name sounds weird rolling off the blonde's tongue, and Eve realizes it's actually the first time she's heard Villanelle say it. Not _moustache_ or _boring little husband of yours._

Eve doesn't break eye contact; she notices the blonde is really looking at her - as if there is a conclusion hiding in her eyes that Villanelle can pull out if she just searches hard enough.

"I think you know the answer to that."

Eve looks away, and tugs on Villanelle's arm that's linked with her, and they continue walking. Villanelle eventually returns her gaze to the horizon.

"No, I do not. That is why I am asking. I have come to realize that happiness can look very different for other people - maybe in ways that I can not understand."

Eve nods slowly, processing Villanelle thoughts as she offers them - the blonde is reaching outside of herself in ways that she has never had to before.

"Niko and I were.. happy, in the beginning. I knew that we were different - he was happy to live a life that was quiet, and free of anything.. well, _exciting_. Hence the bridge club."

Villanelle snorts, and Eve continues.

"I have never wanted that kind of life. Quiet. Predictable. Unchanging. Even growing up in my parents house, I couldn't wait to get out and just experience.. something.. _anything_. That feeling only grew as I got older. When we were dating, it was pretty clear that the differences were.. stark - we would go out, and he'd want to go home at 10 PM. He wanted to do the same thing every night - eat dinner together, watch a movie, go to sleep. He rarely got mad. He treated me the same all throughout our marriage - loving and kind. Nothing ever changed."

Eve contemplates what exactly she means with the end of her sentiment - why she was so dissatisfied by something that most people strive for: consistency. It's not like she ever wanted Niko to be the asshole husband dramatizing her life, of course not, but she never expected to settle for a life that was so.. _still_.

"So why did you say yes, then? When he proposed?"

The question pulls Eve from her thoughts. She lets out a long exhale before answering.

"I don't know. I think I thought that we could.. balance each other out, in some ways. I think that I thought there wasn't another option. I don't know if I thought there was another person in the world who could handle me."

The blonde's eyes wash over with something that wasn't there before - something clear.. understanding, or realization maybe. Eve takes it in for a moment before inquiring further.

"Is that hard for you to understand?"

The younger woman's brows pull together, and she bites her lip - concentrated, as if she is trying to crack an equation that's been haunting her for years.

"Mm," she hums, releasing her lip from her teeth as they walk along, "it is hard for me to understand staying with something that I do not want to stay with. I just.. do what I want. I do not often think about repercussion or consequence."

Eve laughs at that, thinking about their past, thinking about how Villanelle operating without consideration for consequence had entangled them in a web of chaos.

"I think it's safe to say you _never_ think about repercussion or consequence."

It's weird for the older woman to think about when she first started trailing Villanelle - she recalls it vividly, but it almost feels like it happened in another lifetime. Like looking at shiny rocks at the bottom of a puddle - it is somehow both murky and vivid, at the very same time.

Eve remembers the first time she laid awake all night - Niko sleeping at her side - harboring a feeling of disgust when she realized the amount of admiration she held for the blonde. For her ability to move throughout life with such.. freedom. Eve wonders if she that's what she was obsessed with first, if that's what she was so desperately chasing, in Berlin and Paris - freedom.

Villenelle nudges her with her elbow playfully, narrowing her eyes at Eve, but allowing a small smile to play upon her lips.

"No, I did not." The switch of present to past tense verbiage does not go unnoticed by Eve. "So, it is hard for me to understand why you stayed for so long when you were unhappy. But I do understand some of it - feeling trapped, feeling.. mm, like you said, like nobody could handle me." Unloveable, Eve recalls the word from the night before, and it makes her want to wrap Villanelle up in her arms. Instead, she just squeezes the blonde's forearm with her hand. "I understand no longer wanting something that I once wanted very badly."

_I buy what I want, I don't want it. I do what I like, I don't like it. I hurt myself, it doesn't hurt._

Eve stops walking, the blonde halting beside her, as she recalls the words Billie relayed in the AA room. Eve unloops her arm from Villanelle's in favor facing her, and crosses her arms across her chest - maybe in act of self-soothing, or maybe it's just because she doesn't know what to do with her hands otherwise.

"You meant what you said, then? When you were Billie? In that AA room?"

The blonde hesitates for only a moment, before nodding her confirmation slowly.

"Mm, yes. I did not know it at the time, but I do now."

Eve experiences some form of internal whiplash - swears shes hears the cogs in her brain clicking into place. She had always upheld Villanelle as a perfect portrait of freedom - doing what she pleased as she pleased. It wasn't until now, this very moment, that Eve realizes that the blonde has never really been free. Not since she was left at the steps of an orphanage in Russia. Not since she was busted out of prison, and thrown into a career of killing. Not since she left her mother's womb, not really.

It sobers Eve, and she recalls the words the blonde has spewed at her across the dinner table the night prior. _We are the same. More than just our monsters._

Eve, trapped beneath the pressure of her parent's expectations, trapped within the normalcy of a life she was never meant to lead. Villanelle, trapped beneath the devastation of never knowing nurture, trapped within the chaos the only life she ever knew how to lead.

Eve uncrosses her arm, and reaches out to the cup the blonde's cheek in her hand. Villanelle leans into it, her eyes fluttering a bit. She exhales and it feels Eve can feel the physical release in her own body - the tension chipping away, second by second.

"Do you think about those things now?" Eve asks softly, her eyes fixed on the younger woman's. "Consequence? Repercussion?"

Eve's fingers tremble against the blonde's cheek, and Villanelle's hand comes up to cover Eve's, before pulling it away from her face in favor of holding it - their conjoined hands fall intertwined between them.

"All the time."

Eve wants to ask _why, why now,_ but the blonde answers her before the question can be given life.

"I think about you. I think about your safety. I worry for your future - with the Twelve, and with me. I worry about you feeling.. trapped."

There it is again.

It's just packaged in a different way.

_You can leave._

Eve squeezes her hand harder, pulls the blonde closer to her until their faces are only centimeters away. It's Villanelle's turn to bring her hand to Eve's face - it's a gentle touch, she tucks one of the older woman's curls behind her ear, before resting her hand on her shoulder.

"You are beautiful all the time, Eve." Her smile is small, and tender. "But you are most beautiful when you are free."

_You can leave, if you change your mind._

Eve's protest doesn't erupt in the form of language. It's erupts in a way that she has no control over. Before she knows it, she's pummeling her body into Villanelle's - arms wrapping around the blonde's shoulders, and lips connecting the way that lightning strikes.

It is nothing like the bus, and it is nothing like the sweet, short exchange they shared last night.

It a fiery confirmation. Flames burning high, and wild - flames that can not be put out.

Villanelle's reaction is a lot quicker this time around - her arms loop around Eve's waist, pulling her body into hers as if she's begging some God for the possibilty to get even closer.

Villanelle's tongue crashes into Eve's mouth, and Eve accepts it with a moan which only further fuels Villanelle's fire - it becomes something similar to a car crash. Teeth clanking together, tongues fighting for dominance, until Villanelle is pushing Eve backwards onto the ground.

They land in the ground with a gentle thud - Villanelle is straddling Eve, and their hands are frantically grasping at one another's body - hips, shoulders, back, waist. It feels like coming together in a way that Eve did not think any one person could experience in a human body - the personification of puzzles pieces finally connecting after years of being kept separated within in a box.

Eve pulls her mouth away from Villanelle's in favor of delivering sloppy kisses the blonde's jugular, and Villanelle shoves her hand underneath Eve's shirt - palm flat against Eve's bare belly. Eve thinks she's might combust before they even get to the good stuff and.. the sound of an engine starting pushes them apart.

Eve reacts first, pushing Villanelle off of her, whilst the blonde scrambles into an overly-alert sitting position beside her.

In the distance, they can make out Abban's blue chevy - pulling out of the garage, leaving a cloud of exhaustion as it begins it descent down the driveway.

Eve's fright dimishes at the sight - and she lets out a shakey laugh, breath still trembling, when she regains eye contact with the blonde.

It's a visceral experience . She watches the blonde's pupils contract - eyes consumed by black reduce back into a familiar hazel - and it seems like Villanelle is regaining consciousness after having an out-of-body experience.

Eve swears, if she looks a little harder, the blonde is wearing an expression that looks like something similar to.. _remorse_?

The younger woman's expression is enough to subdue eve, confuse her. She averts her gaze, and allows her hands to busy her now unkempt hair before standing to her feet. The task is a lot _harder_ than than it should be.

The blonde follows suit, and they silently start making their way back to the farmhouse.

Eve clears her throat, attempts to find her voice after a couple minutes of deafening silence. She can feel the space between them - two feet of distance poking fun at Eve like a middle school bully - before she asks, "What if Abban saw us?"

The blonde considers this, bobbing her head, as she buries her hands into her coat pocket.

"' _That's one fucked-up family, I tell ya._ " Villanelle replies, impersonating the older man's Irish accent perfectly.

It's enough to snap Eve out of whatever internal downward spiral she was sinking it - and she laughs, loudly and genuinely.

Villanelle smiles at the sound, and after casting a gaze over her shoulder to make sure the man's blue chevy was indeed out of sight, she interlocks Eve's fingers with her own.

The action is small, but it's enough to make Eve feel like her feet are back on the ground.

* * *

When they get back to the farmhouse, Eve isn't sure what to expect.

The fire in her belly is still hot, and some part of her is yearning for Villanelle to push her against the wall and take her, again and again, until the sun disappears from the sky.

But Villanelle - as much as Eve recognizes her attemps to keep her wits about her - maintains that far-off look in her eye, and so Eve is left to fixate and chew on whatever-the-fuck-just-happened to make the blonde retract into herself, after allowing herself to be so exposed.

When they enter the living room, Villanelle unclasps their hands, and goes to the fridge to make what, she calls, _first lunch_. 

The younger woman plops a strawberry into her mouth, chewing it gingerly, before re-appearing before Eve.

"I think that we will have to go into town sooner than expected."

Eve wonders if Baltimore, Ireland has a Costco - given the sheer amount of food the blonde has managed to eat in just 24 hours.

"Well, might as well go now, then.. right _?"_

The older woman isn't sure whether the _right?_ is supposed to serve as _What the hell else are we supposed to do?_ or _I could think of another thing we could do_ \- _many times over_.

Eve's dismay - when Villanelle grunts in agreement - answers her question for her.

* * *

The drive into town is mostly quiet _-_ aside from Villanelle flipping through radio stations until she finds one that piques her interest, some 80s station playing Cyndi Lauper.

Eve can't hide her shocked smile while Villanelle hums along to _Girls Just Want To Have Fun_.

When Villanelle feels Eve's gaze upon her, she turns to meet the older woman's eyes - one hand on the steering wheel, the other turning down the volume knob.

"What, Eve? You do not like music?"

"Of course I like _music_. I just didn't take you for the Cyndi Lauper type."

"I like her voice. It's so.. _annoying_. Like pebbles in a garbage disposal."

Eve quirks an eyebrow - realizing that Villanelle is probably the only person who could mean that as some weird form of compliment.

They arrive at the grocery store shortly afterwards - the same one they stopped at on the way in.

It's small, but sufficient.

All too soon, the scene becomes something entirely too domestic for Eve to wrap her head around.

They agree on most of it - stockpiling their cart with different types of noodles for dinners to come in the next night, but soon begin to argue about things that long-married couples do - what frozen pizza to buy, ( _Pineapple does not belong on pizza, Eve. It's just unnatural_.), argue again when Villanelle makes a face of disgust at the honeydew Eve plops into the cart, (I _eat to taste, Eve. Not just to chew._ ), and one last time when Eve grabs a cheap bottle of red wine which Villanelle quickly replaces with a vastly more expensive one, ( _Eve, if a hangover is a potential, you must make sure it is worth it_ ).

Except it's much different than she remembers how arguing with Niko went at their local Aldi - there's no actual dismay, the only tension is playful - encouraged by subtle touches and mock annoyance - and Eve doesn't ever remember having this much fun in a fucking convenience store.

They work together beautifully, even when they are not supposed to be.

The whole time, they are both on high alert - Villanelle keeping a steady eye on each person who gets a little too close to them, and Eve glancing over her shoulder a few too many times for it to be considered casual.

They are taking care of each other, in their own way. It is domestic, in their own fucked-up little way. Creating safety where it is not allowed to exist.

They're checking out when a familiar voice rings out from behind them.

"Can't keep away from this Irish charm, can ye, Maisie?"

Eve starts, and they both turn around to see Abban standing there, hands at his waist and smiling broadly.

Eve's color drains from her face when she recalls what they had been up to before this seemingly innocent grocery store trip - recalls the feeling of grass against her back, Villanelle's hands against her stomach.

"The Scot in me says otherwise." Villanelle replies sarcastically, not missing a beat, Scottish accent fully in tact.

When they slide into an easy conversation, one that involves eager small talk and Abban inviting them over to dinner later in the week and Villanelle agreeing, it's only then that Eve's face returns a healthy shade of human. He didn't see anything.

Once they've loaded the grocery backs into the truck, and Eve buckles herself into the passenger seat alongside Villanelle, she feels a hell of a lot perkier than she did thirty minutes ago.

She's not irrational - she knows that it's only day two, that they're far from anything resembling eternal safety, or even comfort for that matter - but a grocery trip without potential predators, and knowing that their neighbor they're taking advantage of doesn't suspect a thing, allows Eve to ride a high she wasn't able to before. They're okay, for now.

When she glances over at Villanelle in the driver's seat, and the blonde is sporting a similar delighted expression - Eve can't help it.. and why should she?

She rolls her eyes, before leaning over at placing a kiss on the corner of the blonde's mouth.

Eve pulls back, and she swears Villanelle's cheeks are tiniest bit red as the blonde puts the car in reverse, and pulls out of the parking lot.

The ride is quiet again on the way home - but this time, the silence doesn't make Eve's blood run cold.

Villanelle breaks it, when they turn onto the dirt driveway leading back to the farmhouse.

"I like it when you kiss me, Eve."

It's a declaration - confidently spoken, but some untouchable shyness rounding the words out.

Eve smiles.

"Well.. good, then."

She lets her gaze linger out the window, eyes trailing the tops of the trees, as they pull up to the house. It feels like coming home.

* * *

They unpack the groceries, relatively fast - and they're not quite hungry enough to prepare dinner yet, which gives them an allotted amount of time to do, well, nothing.

Eve doesn't any e-mails to check, or files to comb over - and Villanelle has nobody to, well, kill.

It used to drive Eve crazy, having her hands unoccupied. She was never the type to sit still. Even after working nine-hours shifts from hell, she was still left with enough energy to go out and get hammered with Bill and Elena.

She knows Villanelle is the same. They're similar in that regard - they're dedicated, disciplined, do well when they have something to fixate on; so Eve can't help but linger on the fact that they are able to just _exist_ , in this moment, so harmoniously.

The blonde is sat on the couch, eyes focused on her crossword, while Eve takes the opportunity to poke around in the cabinets around the cabin.

And sure, some part of it feels wrong - using her hands to look through dusty books and VHS tapes when those very hands should be touching Villanelle.. and that's something that Eve can't help but linger on either.

They've built the bridge, crossed the water - so why does it feel like like they are still dancing around _something_?

She wants to distract herself, wants to rid herself of the guilty look the blonde wore after they shared that kiss on the cliff, but she can't help the memory slipping back to the forefront of her brain - again, and again.

Eve thinks she should just _ask -_ obviously that is something she can do now, but it feels.. off limits, in a particularly fragile way. Like Rome.

Eve settles for the only answer that can afford her a fragment of peace: it is only their second day of being.. together, and it's going to take some figuring out. Eve bites back a laugh at the absurdity of the thought, wonder if there's some sort of guide for this kind of thing.

_How To: Repair A Relationship With An Assasin That You've Shared A Wildly Traumatic Past With But You're Now In Love With.. For Dummies._

The thought sends out a shrill alarm to the rest of her body, and Eve physically jerks - knocking a box out of the cabinet she was absentmindedly pawing through, but she stills. Makes no move to pick it up, even when Villanelle stands from the couch.

_In love._

Oh.

Yeah.

_Duh_.

Her heart is beating so rapidly in her chest, that she's unable to make out whatever Villanelle is saying to her; refuses to turn around.

Which is maybe a mistake, because the blonde just walks over to her until she's right behind her, and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Eve?"

Eve closes her eyes, lets her forehead rest against the cabinet in the living room. "Yeah, I just.." She gives herself a moment to calm herself, the best she can when the very reason for her damn-well convulsing is standing less than one foot away from her, and she allows her eyes to flutter open. When they do, they adjust to focus on the box to knock to the ground.

Eve cocks her head, registering the bright red box with _Scattegories_ printed on the front.

It's enough to pull her out of the thoughts she can't afford to entertain right now - later yes, but now.. no. These are the kind of thoughts that need heavy processing before they're given life.

She bends down and picks up the box, before turning and facing the younger woman.

"Shit, I haven't thought about this game in forever."

After the blonde glances Eve over and realizes she's okay, or at least in one piece, she narrows her eyes at the box in the older woman's hands.

"What is a.. _scatte-gor-ie_?"

Eve laughs, and some relief washes over her body, when Villanelle sounds out the game with a bit too literally.

"It's a game that my family always used to play. I haven't thought about it in forever."

The blonde's eyes lights up at that, taking the box from Eve's hands.

"Can we play? I love games."

Eve quirks an eyebrow at Villanelle's child-like excitement - wants to make a snarky response like _Even ones that don't involve killing?_.. but Villanelle is beaming at with her an eagerness that even Eve doesn't have the heart to put out.

They decide to sit outside in the rocking chairs - blankets wrapped around their shoulders, and wine glasses on the floor. They both have writing pads splayed across their laps, and Eve is just finishing explaining the rules as the sun begins to set.

"That's pretty must the jist of it. Roll the die, and whatever letter it it lands on, is the letter your answer has to start with in regard to the corresponding category. We both lose a point if we write down the same answer. Whoever gets the most points wins."

Villanelle is rolling her eyes, wielding a pencil as if it was a sword and the paper was something to be decimated. Eve is surprised at the competitive energy radiating off the blonde over a game suited for age 12 and upwards.

"Yes, Eve, I get it. Just.. do the thing, already." She shoo's her hand at the little sand timer Eve is holding, and Eve rolls her eyes before rolling the die - landing on the letter B - before setting the timer on the table.

Villanelle finishes a good thirty seconds before Eve. It makes the older woman scoff - and she tries to hide the fact that she's desperately attempting to scribble down whatever word can come to mind before she's out of time.

The sand in the timer runs out, and Villanelle is looking all too by the time Eve looks over at her - smirking in premature victory, wine glass in hand as she shakes her head disapprovingly at the older woman.

"Slow and steady does _not_ win the race. I thought we learned that by now, Eve."

Eve scoffs, before snatching the blonde's writing pad out of her lap, and glancing over her answers.

List 1

1\. Things found in a desk: _Box knife_

2\. Things that are cold: _Blood_

3\. Things found in the ocean: _Bodies_

4\. Diseases: _Blood clot_

5\. Words associated with money: _Bounty_

6\. Things that you wear: _Bra_

7\. Fictional characters: _Buffalo Bill_

8\. Crimes: _Blackmail_

9\. Pet names: _Baby_

10\. Something you keep hidden: _Bomb_

11\. Things you replace: _Butcher knife_

12\. A boy's name: _Bill_

Eve's finger's tighten around the writing pad, as she reads the blonde's last answer.

She feels tears prick at her eyes, but she blinks them back - exhales slowly, and clears her throat.

Now would really be the perfect time to bring up Villanelle murdering her best friend - and how that fucked up her life, but instead she says,

"Blood is not cold."

"It is when it's been sitting out for a while." The blonde replies, not missing a bit - eyes fixed on Eve, two glimmering stones in the darkness setting in around them.

Eve rolls her eyes, before penciling in a check mark next to the blonde's answer, because she supposes that counts.. _technically_.

"Okay, well, we each lose a point. We both put down bra." Eve says, glancing over their lists side-by-side, unsurprised that is the one word they got in common since almost all of the blonde's answers were having to do with murder directly, or were murder-adjacent.

"Really?" The blonde sits forward, looking at their lists, confusion pulling her eyebrows together, before she glances up at Eve. "I thought for sure you would not put bra. I mean, you never one."

Eve guffaws at that, pushing Villanelle's shoulder so that the blonde is forced to lean back in her chair - she's smirking at Eve, eyes a lit with mischievous familiarity, and an achingly familiar desire.

"You think I do not notice these things, Eve?"

Eve fixates on it for a moment - allows herself to take it in, allows her body to react - before pulling herself back into the present moment.

She has a damn good idea of what that look means.. and where as Eve would usually throw herself into it, logic be damned, the blonde's reactions the last 48 hours have confused her.

She can deal with a lot of emotions right now - confusion, not being one of them.

She narrows her eyes at Villanelle, pulling her blanket further around her shoulders to defend her poor breasts from the blonde's prying eyes, but she knows the action is useless - firstly, because she knows that the blonde must know that she wants her to look, and second, it's almost fully dark out now.

"Let's play again." Eve commands, eyes alit with a desire that she knows it not going away - knows that she can only hide so many times before she combusts.

Villanelle doesn't respond, she just returns the gaze before springing up from her chair and turning on the porch light so that they continue.

Eve takes a sip of wine, and steels herself.

They play three more games. Eve loses two of them.

"God!' She slams the writing pad down on the table. She's about to propose another game - just hoping to break even at this point - when her stomach makes an audible groan.

"Okay, Eve, I suppose I will pity you. But only because I am equally as hungry." She pouts, patting her tummy, before leaning forward slowly - tilting Eve's chin up so that they are face-to-face, the blonde's smirk is lingering very close.. very kiss-able.. or slapp-able, but Eve hasn't decided yet. "All that winning really does something to a girl."

_Slapp-able_ , Eve decides. Or convinces herself.

The older woman just leans in closer, until her lips are a hair away from the blonde's, and she manages the most sultry voice she can before whispering, "I'm making the pineapple pizza."

And with that, she flings the blanket from her shoulders, and heads inside.

"Ugh, Eve, no!"

She counts that as a victory, and smiles the whole way to the kitchen.

* * *

They decide to eat on the porch that night - the air is crisp, but not cold.

Eve feels scarily content - wrapped in her blanket, drinking red wine, and eating frozen pizza with Villanelle on a porch, entertaining a life they could never live.

Well.. as content, as she can.

Eve plops the pineapple pieces that Villanelle has discarded onto her plate into her mouth and chew gingerly - she tries to allow herself these small comforts. With Villanelle there, it's dangerously easy to. But every time she closes her eyes just for a moment- blinks, even, - she just sees Bill's face.

Villanelle takes a bit out of her crust, and chews quietly but she can feel the blonde's eyes burning into her profile. She wants to open her mouth, ask - she knows she can, but she just.. _can't_.

And so, Villanelle does.

"Eve, I can hear you thinking from here." She says, plucking a burnt piece off of her crust, and flicking it over the railing over the porch, before turning her body to face Eve completely. "Care to share with the class?"

Eve closes her eyes and sighs deeply, before putting her plate on the small table next to them - appetite more than gone.

"Do you regret killing Bill?"

Villanelle's eyebrows raise, her eyes widen a bit - not with surprise but as if she's finally being asked another question she's been dreading - and she nods slowly, before crossing her arms in her lap.

"I regret killing Bill because I see how it has hurt you.. how it has _affected_ you."

Eve crosses her legs and leans in a little bit - trying to get a read on the blonde who's gaze looks.. misty. Not far-off, but not totally reachable either.

She wonders if Villanelle can fully fathom that kind of loss - the death of a friend. If Villanelle even has somebody she truly considers a friend. She wonders what it would be like for Villanelle is somebody killed Konstantin.. but then she remembers, Villanelle tried to kill Konstantin herself. But that was.. almost two years ago, at this point. Whatever humanity the blonde is trying to reckon with has only started to come to fruition recently. Or she has only been able to name it, recently. The more Eve thinks about it, the more she wonders just how long Villanelle has been traversing these trials and tribulations.

"Would you still regret it, if that wasn't the case? If - if.. it had nothing to do with me? Would you regret killing Bill simply because he was a great man - a friend, husband.. father?"

Villanelle considers it. She chews on it, softening a bit in the process - her body language relaxing - something that Eve has learned to take as a sign of absolute transparency.

"I do not know, because it is not the situation we are in. It is hard to say. Maybe. But probably not."

Eve lets out a shaky exhale - but doesn't lean back in her chair. Villanelle's expression is offering too much for her to look away. She watches the blonde's throat bob, as she swallows and closes her eyes. When she reopens them, there are tears prickling at the corners.

Eve stills.

"I think.. I think that I am starting to regret killing a lot of people."

Vilanelle's shoulders shake - and then, she's crying. Honest to god crying. She's not making any noise - trying her best not to, Eve assumes - as a hand comes up to cover her mouth, and Eve is forced as witness to watch the internal war the younger woman has been wrapping up inside of herself for years finally begin to unravel.

Eve doesn't know what to do - not immediately. The ex-MI6 has felt enormous regret; mass shame that goes above and beyond what an average person should ever feel in a single lifetime.. but even that, she knows doesn't compare to what Villanelle must be coming to terms with.

The blonde has killed so many people. Hundreds, if Eve had to guess. How does one even begin to atone for that kind of regret? Eve can't fathom it.

She doesn't know what to do, but that doesn't stop her body from reacting. Within moments, she on her knees in front of Villanelle, she grabs one of the blonde's hand that's resting in her lap, and uses the other to stroke her cheek - thumb swiping it at attempt to keep away the tears that are falling at rapid rates.

"Baby, baby," Eve coo's, the pet name following off of her lips effortlessly, "shh. It's going to be okay, alright? I'm here. It'll be okay."

_It has to be. We'll make it okay._

It's a silent promise.

Villanelle just cries harder, falls forward into Eve's arms - a trembling mess of humanity and all of the emotions that come with it. Eve clings to her, whispering quiet confirmations into the blonde's hair. Eve wants to cry, wants to sob - but she doesn't.

This times, she decides, Villanelle will have someone who can be strong for her.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped up on the porch, until Villanelle starts to shiver. Eve moves them inside, half-carrying Villanelle, wine glasses and game pieces strewn across the porch forgotten. She flicks the heater on, on the way.

She lays Villanelle on the couch - and the blonde curls up on her side, silently aside from the occiasional hiccup- and Eve turns to head into the kitchen and get the blonde water, when a hand reaches out and grabs her, stopping her in her tracks.

Villanelle pushes herself against the frame of the couch, allowing a small sliver of space next to her, and so Eve does what she needs to, what Villanelle needs her to, what she has been wanting to do all along - she occupies the space next to her.

She lays down on her back, as comfortably as she can in the cramped space, and Villanelle nuzzles into her immediately - like a moth to a flame. She curls into Eve - forehead pressed into the older woman's neck, effectively wetting Eve's collarbones with tears - and Eve just wraps her arms around her, and rests her cheek against the blonde's head - pressing silent kisses into her hair.

It's not until Villanelle's breathing evens out, transitions into something a lot more sleep-like and a lot less hiccupy, that Eve notices the feeling of something hard penetrating her through the old, lifeless pillow.

She adjusts slowly, careful not to wake the sleeping woman, before reaching her free hand up and fishing underneath.

She pulls out a gun.

She holds it in her hand, staring at it with aching eyes.

It doesn't instill fear in Eve - not like the knife did that first night they were here. Not like the pills did when Villanelle showed up at her house dressed in black. No, it's nothing like that.

Eve knows the gun isn't there as a threat to her. If anything, the gun is there as a symbol of safety - and protection. But Eve knows, that for Villanelle, it is a symbol of normalcy.

Eve knows that this is probably just how Villanelle has slept for the last decade - ever since she was a teenger broken out of prison.

Eve does cry, this time. Quietly, this time. Figures there's more than one way to be strong, and given the future they're going to have together - it'll probably look like this, more than a few times.

She cries quietly, until she can't anymore. Until her arm is numb from being wrapped around Villanelle so tightly - but she doesn't move it, doesn't dare.

She's starting to fall asleep when she finally regains her ability to string together some sort of thought - some sort of ability to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

It's funny, she thinks, that it's the first time they've slept together and they haven't even slept together.

It's funny, but not really - not at all. It's sobering.

This feels a hell of a lot more intimate that sex.

It's the last thing Eve thinks before she falls asleep - with Villanelle in her arms, with the lights still-on, and with the gun tucked safely back underneath her pillow.

* * *

Eve learns three things about Villanelle on their third day of cohabitation.

First, that having an emotionally-exhausting experience wears the blonde down way more than a physically-exhausting one could ever begin to.

Eve wakes up alone on the couch, groaning as she regains consciousness. Her neck is screaming at her for sleeping on a small couch only meant for one person, and she has a headache - one that has nothing to do with the small amount of wine she consumed the night prior, but more to do with having shed all the hydration from her body before promptly falling asleep.

When she sits up, hair unkempt with sleep and groggy-eyed, she's met with the sight of the blonde sitting at the dining room table - legs curled up into her chest and sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Eve." Villanelle stares at her over her coffee cup, her tone quiet and.. _apologetic_? That's the only word Eve can put to it.

The older woman rubs her eyes, muttering a good morning back, before letting her eyes focus on the steam trailing out of the blonde's mug. It makes Eve's mouth water.

"I thought caffeine makes you weird?" Eve asks.

"Mm, it does. But I need it this morning." She murmurs into the mug, taking another sip. "I will warn you if I am feeling the urge to bounce off the walls."

Eve chuckles groggily, before getting up, letting out a series of yawns and stretches as she treks to the bathroom.

When she returns, teeth-brushed and hair-tamed, she drinks three full glasses of water before sitting at the table across from the blonde. She finally starts to feel human again - and it is then that she finally takes in the spread laid out in front of her.

There are eggs, bacon, biscuits, blueberries - all laid out decadently on their own little plates; her coffee mug is filled and waiting for her, releasing it's own tendrils of stream into the air before her.

It's beautiful, and Eve's stomach moans in appreciation, but the older woman can't help but notice that it looks an awful lot like an.. _apology_.

The thought is only confirmed when she takes in Villanelle's presence - she looks small, curled up in the chair, and Eve quickly realizes there is probably no chance that the younger woman will bouncing off the walls any time soon if the bags under her eyes are any indicator.

Eve notices that she looks different - not in the normal way people do after an emotionally-draining night, but like some facade has shattered; no longer in place.

She does not look like Villanelle. She looks like _Oksana_.

Eve sits down, chewing the inside of her cheek, as she maintains eye contact with the blonde across the table.

"Did you go for a run this morning?" Eve asks, picking up her coffee cup, and sipping it delicately.

"No, I am.. resting today." The blonde offer's, plopping a blueberry into her mouth - Eve notices her plate remains largely untouched. Hm.

There are times when she can justify the tip-toeing, the dancing around, the questions she thinks of but never verbalizes. This is not one of those times.

"So," Eve begins, taking another sip of her coffee before putting it down, and gestures to the spread of food on the table, "what exactly are you apologizing for?"

Eve is curious. _For shooting me? For making me go into hiding? For having me here? For.. crying?_

The list is long, and it could be any number of things given the fact that the two have never really exchanged apologies - aside from the blonde apologizing for the iPhone being thrown over the bridge, and a _Sorry, Baby x_ scribbled onto a notecard. But that doesn't really count.

It's a hard thing for Eve to think about beginning to do. If they accepted their need to apologize to one another, they'd spend a good 24 hours doing it.

Eve wonders if it's better if they just.. don't.

The blonde rests her elbows on the table, and inhales deeply before beginning.

"For last night, you - you should not have to take care of me. Not after everything I have-"

Eve cuts her off. Doesn't let her finish her sentence, doesn't even entertain it.

"We take care of each other." She says firmly, eyes serious and pleading, pleading for the blonde to not look away.

The younger woman doesn't; she just returns Eve's gaze - wide-eyed.

"I appreciate the gesture, but let's not do.. _this_." She gestures to the table, softly - her tone letting the blonde know she appreciates it, but it not necessary. "This isn't.. _us_."

_Whatever that means_ , Eve thinks.

Villanelle swallows, before asking, "What shall we do then?"

Eve considers it, picks up a piece of bacon and begins to chew it, before answering. 

"Talk. Let's just.. talk.. to each other."

The answer is simple, and straight-forward. It's what they need.

Eve continues, before Villanelle has a chance to interject.

"But I think.. that if we start doing sorries now, we won't be able to stop. So how about we just make a pact? No sorries."

When Villanelle's eyebrows raise questioningly, Eve wonders if she's putting the blonde in an unfair position. Maybe Villanelle needs to apologize to move on, but something about it makes Eve's stomach turn.

It's the first that Eve considers that maybe Rome is a wound, open and untouchable, just as much for her as it is for Villanelle.

"Okay. No sorries."

Villanelle agrees, and to Eve's relief, it looks like weight is visibly lifted from the blonde's shoulders.

The second thing Eve learns about Villanelle, is that she bounces back incredibly fast.

Eve reaches for another piece of bacon, but the blonde swats her hand away - sending the piece of bacon flying somewhere behind the couch.

Eve's mouth opens in protest, "Hey! What the hell!"

"You can not eat that, Eve. That is _sorry_ food."

The blonde is looking at her, disposition completely changed from before - she looks lively, playful, but still different from before. Still not Villanelle.. but Oksana.

Eve can't ignore it anymore.

She opens her mouth to return a playful quip, but instead - she asks..

"Would you like it if I called you Oksana?"

The younger woman's gaze softens - eyes clear like a windshield after it's been wiped of fog, and she nods slowly, sitting back in her seat.

"I would like that, very much."

Eve offers her a small smile, and they share in a moment of peaceful quiet, before Eve returns her attention to the food in front of her.

"Now, may I please eat the _sorry_ food, m'lord Oksana?"

_Oksana_ rolls her eyes, throwing a piece of bacon at Eve - _which is annoying, two pieces of bacon.. lost to the abyss_ , Eve thinks - before she loads up her own plate.

The blonde eats two full plates in one sitting, before Eve can even finish her coffee, and relief seeps through her body like warm honey.

The afternoon carries on in a haze. They curl up on the couch after breakfast, Oksana resting her head in Eve's lap as she focuses on her crossword, while Eve just runs her hands through the blonde's hair - the first quiet morning she's allowed herself in, _years_ , she imagines.

They fall asleep like that, accidentally.

When Eve wakes up from the nap, she is on her back and Villanelle is half-on top of her - leg thrown over Eve's hips, and arm across her chest. She's pushed into Eve in all the right places, clinging to her curves.

The feeling instills a l _ess-than-innocent_ feeling in the older woman, and suddenly the presence of the bed they have yet to touch in the other room haunts Eve, like an unwelcome intruder trying to coax her into the shadows.

Eve's tries to ignore the heat pooling at her waist - so she props herself up on her elbows, gently, to get a look at the clock in the kitchen.

_3:14 PM._

Jesus, they slept another four hours.

"No," Oksana protests sleepily, and curls further into Eve - forcing her down on her back. When she glances down at the blonde's face, she figures the four-hours were well needed.

The younger woman looks rejuvenated - eyebags gone, eyes no longer holding onto any lingering puffiness. She looks good. Not that she looked bad before. Even with no color in her face, Oksana still managed to look good which is.. _frustrating_ , Eve thinks.

"Wake up, lazy," Eve pokes at the blonde's shoulder, before tickling the side of her neck. Villanelle's eyes flash open - disoriented and disgruntled, before they focus on Eve - and they soften into something else entirely. The imagery moves Eve, rattles her.

_I love you,_ Eve thinks. And pushes it down. Tells herself it's not time for that yet.

"Fine," Villanelle relents, pressing a sloppy kiss to Eve's jaw, before sitting up until she's in a position that leaves her half-hovering above the other woman and - _Oh_.

That heat, pooling in Eve's waist, is no longer ignore-able, she realizes.

Eve feels her mouth go dry, feels her pupils expand, as she hardens her eye contact with the blonde - silently begging her to lean down, to tangle her hands in Eve's curls, to do.. _anything_ , for fuck's sake.

Oksana is looking at her with eyes that are deliciously dark - possessed - before she blinks, swallows, and is suddenly moving off of Eve, away from her.

"I am not happy about it, though." Oksana offers, attempting to be non-nonchalant, before pushing herself into a standing position.

"What?" Eve asks, accidentally, through gritted teeth before realizing the blonde is still talking about having to wake up.

The blonde doesn't respond - just trots off to the bathroom to do God Knows What, leaving Eve an overly-stimulated mess of all-too-active nerves.

It can't be good for her health. Eve wonders if it is possible for a human to literally combust from arousal. Eve wonders if she'll be the first person to die from it. It doesn't seem far off - not right now.

She just lets her head plop back down on the pillow, and groans into the empty room.

* * *

The afternoon bleeds into the evening, and Eve can't remember a time she has ever been so _not present_ with Oksana - but she can't help it.

Eve made them sandwiches for a late lunch - or technically, dinner now, she corrects, as it is _6:30 PM_ \- and they're eating them on the roof. They figured they should get out of the house at least once today, and they figure this counts.

Oksana is recounting some story about killing a man in Vienna - and when Eve would usually be hanging on every word, the cloud of haze in her mind is not allowing for such thing.

She's disgusted. Seriously sickened with herself.

She's behaving like a horny teenage boy who is entertaining the myth of blue-balled frustration.

".. the blood would just not stop squirting everywhere. Seriously. That is when I learned not to aim for arteries in the neck unless you want to redecorate a room." Oksana trails on, laughter winding down, and she refocuses on Eve - who is looking off to the trees as the sun sets over them.

Eve stays silent, sandwich disregarded at her side, not even aware that Oksana has finished her story.

"Are you okay, Eve? You are acting.. weird."

The choice of word causes Eve to whip around to face Oksana, leaving the blonde to flinch back instinctively. Her eyes are wide.

"I'm acting _weird_?!" Eve accidentally shouts the word, which just causes the blonde's to lean back further. Eve should care, but she's just so.. _confused_. "That's rich." Eve states, before standing up, and stomping her way across the roof - off of it, back through the window, and into the living room.

It takes Oksana a full-minute to trail in after her - Eve notices she treks in a little bambi-legged, obviously unclear why the older woman is so full of rage.

"Oo-kay.." Oksana rounds the word out gingerly, before crossing her arm and taking a step forward towards Eve. "Do you want to talk about.." she pauses to gesture to Eve's disposition "..whatever this is?"

"No." Eve states, crossing her arms too, not budging from her standing position.

Oksana hesitates, before mouthing another silent 'Okay..', and Eve should feel guilty. She really should. She is the one who said they needed to talk, this morning, that they needed to learn how to communicate - openly and unapologetically.

But Eve is too embarassed, doesn't really know how to ask a question that can only be summarized as:

_Why don't you want to fuck me?_

It's Oksana walking to the couch, readjusting the pillow and blanket on it, so she can lay down that finally sets Eve off. Eve can't stand the sight - can't bear to hear _I'm sleeping on the couch_ one more time.

"Ugh!" She audibly protests, with a cadence similar to a two-year old stomping their foot on the ground, before turning around and stomping into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

She throws herself onto the bed, shoving a pillow over her face, and allowing the silence to wash over her. It is stark still in the farmhouse. Oksana hasn't budged from her position on the couch - even in another room, Eve is hyper-aware of her movements.

This is.. _fine_ , Eve thinks. Maybe if she just lays down like this, somehow, her body will be able to just fall asleep like it did only a few hours earlier. Maybe she can calm down.

She lasts two minutes.

She jumps out of bed, unable to contain herself any longer, before swinging the door open. She's met with the sight of Oksana laying on her back on the couch, eyes wide and concerned as she takes in Eve, and it sets the older woman over the edge.

"I don't get it, Oksana. I don't get _you_!" Eve's is hyper-aware of the way her voice is raised, but the nerves itching underneath every inch of her skin don't allow for her to calm down. "There is this _massive_ thing between us. I don't understand it, but I'm not interested in running from it anymore. Isn't that why we're here? To not _fucking_ run away from it!" Eve continues - feeling confused and embarrassed and a little bit angry, as Oksana's eyebrows just pull together in deeper concern.

"Do you just.. not want me, in that _way_?" Eve's voice softens, and the insecurity finally wins out. She's confused and insecure, because Oksana made it pretty clear she's wanted to have sex with Eve since the older woman showed up at her apartment in Paris, so what's changed? Is she not an object of desire for her, in that way, anymore? "I know that I'm _older_ ," Eve visibly cringes as she releases the word, and embarrassed tears prick at the corners of her eyes - it makes her want to bury her head in the sand. "and that's fine, if that's what it is. You just have to let me know, because I'm going crazy trying to figure it out."

Oksana sits up slowly - very slowly - and pushes herself into a standing position. She takes cautious steps towards Eve, like an animal stalking its prey, and it isn't until the blonde is only a few steps in front of her that Eve can see just how dark Oksana's eyes are. Her pupils are _completely blown_ , almost no brown visible amongst her irises, and it makes Eve feel like she's on fire.

The older woman gulps, and Oksana steps closer, holding her arms at her sides - Eve notices her fingers twitching, wondering if its an effort for her to keep them there, wonders if the blonde wants to touch her as badly as she wants to touch her.

"Do you want to have sex with me, Eve?" It's a simple question - but the way Oksana asks it is.. _powerful_. Each word is dripping with lust, want, desire, yearning, _needing_. It drains the oxygen from Eve's body - leaving her unable to answer.

"Because I am no longer interested in taking things from you, Eve." Oksana takes another step closer, bringing her hand to trail up the length of Eve's arm. It's electric - burning. "Well.. things that you do not want to give, willingly. So I need you to tell me." Her eyes lock onto Eve's - up close, Eve can see her reflection in the blackness of them. Unmoving. "Do you want to have sex with me, Eve?"

Heat floods Eve's body, trickled in with realization.

Ever since they've set foot in the farmhouse - it has been Eve that has made the first move. The embrace at the dinner table. The kiss on their walk. The kiss in the car.

Oh.

Eve is an idiot. Totally stupid, she realizes.

Seriously stupid, when she realizes she is still not responding, whilst Oksana is in front of her - pupils diliating by the moment.

Eve nods, dumbly - and that's enough.

Oksana crashes into her - and they pummel backwards until the blonde has her pinned against the wall. She kisses her hungrily - tongue slipping into her mouth, and grazing her teeth - while her hands tangle into Eve's hair.

God, it's.. everything. Everything she's imagined. More than.

Eve's hands grip Oksana's hips - begging her to get closer, find a way, fucking invent a way, Eve doesn't care - and Oksana just pushes herself further into Eve's body, which elicits a moan from the older woman.

That draws a response from the blonde. She returns it into her mouth, before breaking their lips apart in favor of delivering heated kisses to Eve's jugular - nipping along the way as she goes, hands still tangled firmly in the older woman's hair.

"Bed." Eve manages, somehow, and it doesn't take Oksana a second to respond.

Before she knows it, they're crashing through the doorway into the bedroom and Oksana is pushing her backwards onto the bed - before climbing atop of her, and straddling her hips. When their mouths reconnect, it's a battle - tongues fighting for dominance, whilst Eve presses her hips upwards, begging for friction, and she doesn't know what she's doing.. but she's confident she can figure it out. Especially when Oksana lets out a guttural moan at the contact.

Oksana tears her own shirt off over her head before throwing it aside. And the sight of the younger woman - shirtless, on top of her, wild and wanting - is enough to make Eve cum on sight, she thinks. She makes quick work of Eve's shirt immediately afterwards, leaving Eve bare-chested whilst Oksana still has a bra on. Eve makes a disgruntled protest at that, reaching up to snap the strap of the younger woman's bra, before she gets the hint, and discards it - throwing it off to join the rest of their clothes somewhere on the ground. 

She's trailing wet kisses down Eve's chest, and it isn't until Oksana's fingers land on the button of Eve's pants that she's able to tap into the nervousness - the small nervousness, buried deep under all the desire, but there.. none the less.

Eve lets out a gasp, before somehow finding the words. "I want this." Oksana stops planting kisses on her chest, looking up at Eve carefully - gaze still filled with heat and desire, but concern too. "But that does not mean that I know what I'm doing." Oksana registers the words, and chuckles into Eve's skin as she continues to plant wet, hot kisses down the older woman's stomach.

"Do not worry about that right now. I will take care of you first." The words spur a physical reaction from Eve - feels the wetness seep through her underwear - and she just tangles her hands in Oksana's hair, watching carefully as the blonde nips at her hip bone. Eve moans. Oksana unzips her pants, before looking up at her reassuringly. "I have wanted this for a very long time, Eve."

Oksana pulls her pants down her legs slowly - underwear coming along with them - and Eve feels shy for a moment, laid completely bare in front of the younger woman, but it turns into something else when she notices the way Oksana is regarding her as if she's some exquisite statue that people visit from all around the world just to see.

"God, Eve," The older woman takes notice of the blonde's breathless tone, finds confidence in it.. "You are.. so _hot_." Her dark eyes flash up to land on Eve's once more, and Oksana can't seem to resist herself before crashing forward yet again, and connecting their lips.

_God_ , Niko never made her feel like this. Not even a little. _Not at all._

Oksana is above her, chest pushed firmly against Eve's, as their tongues clash against one anothers. Oksana wiggles her hips, and Eve gets the hint, spreads her legs immediately so that the younger woman can settle between them. There isn't an inch of space between them - not a centimeter - and Eve has never felt so whole - and so achingly aware that something is missing at the same time. The heat between the older woman's legs burns, aches, begs - begs for them to get closer, to intertwine.

Oksana breaks their kiss in favor of dipping her head a little lower - she takes one of Eve's erect nipples into her mouth, delicately, before glancing up at the older woman. When they finally make eye contact, Oksana is looking up at her - silently asking for permission - eyes as dark, and as wide as the ocean. Eve nods, and feels Oksana respond immediately. The blonde nips gently at Eve's nipple, before letting her hand trail down, down, down until she feels Eve's wetness, Eve's want.

They both let out a heavy moan at the contact, and then Oksana is pushing inside of her - two firm fingers sealing a closeness; a wholeness that they have been dancing around since the moment they met.

_Oh. My. God._

Eve sees stars, wonders if she could black out - and thinks just how sinful that would be to lose consciousness during an act where each and every moment should be savored, vividly remembered. Oksana is pumping into her, roughly, fingers curling with each push - and it feels holy. Ceremonial. Coming together and coming undone, at the very same time.

Eve throws her head back, her curls engulfing the pillow, and lets out a deep moan.

And then suddenly, her world is toppling upside down - Oksana flips them too quickly for Eve to even register, before she finds herself on top - straddling Oksana's hips, and her fingers only entering deeper into Eve as she rides them from above.

Any hesitancy Eve harbored about sleeping with a woman for the first time, has gone out the window. Eve doesn't even have to think - her body just knows, assumes it's always known how to mold against Oksana's.

The blonde is looking at her - lips swollen, and cheeks flushed, and eyes half-lidded - as she watches Eve ride her, and when the younger woman starts using her thumb to circle Eve's clit - the older woman feels her walls tighten, knows that the combustion she's been pushing down for so long is about to overtake her - erupt from her.

"Not yet."

Oksana commands, voice heavy and low, before she pulls out of Eve. It feels so wrong - feeling her and then not feeling her in only a moment, and Eve is about to protest before she feels the blonde wrap her hands around the backs of Eve's thighs.

"Not before I taste you."

_Oh_.

Eve feels her wetness running down the inside of her thighs while the blonde pulls her up her body until Eve is positioned directly above the blonde's face. Oksana glances at her from below - looking wild and untamed out of control - before she pulls Eve down, and tastes her.

Eve's sees stars this time, holds onto the headboard to steady herself. Oksana pushes and pulls her thighs into a rough rhythm - until Eve is riding her face in a way that leaves her questioning whether the blonde can even breathe.

It doesn't matter, it ends up.

Eve comes within moments. Her body shakes as her walls tighten, Oksana's tongue working against her mercilessly, until she nearly convulses. She lets her head fall against the headboard, letting out a prolonged silent moan - eyes fluttering closed as each part of her body is reduced into a trembling mess of nerves.

Oksana lets her tongue slide through Eve's folds ones final time - gently - and the older woman quivers at the contact.

When she finally allows her eyes to flutter open, forehead still resting against the headboard, she looks down at Oksana.

The blonde is looking up at her smugly, full of desire and devotion. Her pupils are fully blown, and Eve can see her wetness on Oksana's chin. 

It's the dirtiest thing she's ever seen.

It's the hottest thing she's ever seen.

Eve feels the heat pool in her waist, once again, unsure if it ever left in the first place.

She lowers herself into a sitting position on Oksana's hips - the two of them still breathing heavily, maintaining an eye contact that could kill the older woman if she let it.

"I've never come like that before."

Eve admits, breath still trembling, her palms laying flat on Oksana's stomach.

The blonde's smirk only widens - full of victory and euphoria.

"I almost came too. It has never happened to me before. Coming without being touched. I was very close."

Eve's inhales sharpy, feels herself get wet - knows that Oksana must feel it on her stomaach.

The blonde props herself up on her shoulders, placing a kiss on Eve's shoulder, before returning her gaze to Eve's eyes.

"Would you like to know how to touch me, Eve?"

Eve feels the oxygen leaves her lungs - feels confident that the only thing in her body is _desire_.

She wishes she could provide a more sultry response - say something sexy, _anything_ \- but she just nods, dumbly.

Oksana just chuckles quietly under her breath before leaning up to kiss Eve. It's gentle and loving and encouraging, nothing like the way the blonde was kissing her only moments beforehand.

* * *

The third thing Eve learns about Oksana, is the way that she sounds when she comes.

Eve finds herself between the blonde's legs - Oksana on her back, blonde hair looking like its on fire spread out around her, while Eve works her tongue against the blonde's clit - two fingers pushing into her as she does.

Oksana is.. very _vocal_ , Eve learns, and she is grateful for it.

The blonde lets out a series of moans interlaced with instruction - _a little higher, harder, faster, right there, Eve, do not stop, Eve!_ \- and Eve is somewhat surprised when the blonde comes as fast as she did.

It instills Eve with a similar sense of victory, accomplishment, smugness - knowing that she can make the blonde come undone just the same way that she did.

Oksana comes hard - her walls tighten around Eve's fingers, and she trembles against Eve's mouth for a full thirty seconds, before Eve releases her clit from her lips with a gentle _pop_.

Oksana takes a moment to recover - her breathing returning to a shakey rhythm - before Eve climbs up her body, and lays beside her. She props her hand against her cheek, staring at the blonde's face, as she traces slow circles around the younger woman's ribcage.

The blonde clears her throat, before catching Eve's hand with her own. She kisses Eve's fingers, before looking up at the older woman.

"You are a quick learner, Eve."

Eve chuckles lowly, before capturing the younger woman's lips in a slow, sweet kiss.

It doesn't stay innocent for long.

They have sex three more times that night - until their bodies won't allow it. Until they are too sensitive to continue.

Moonlight is shining through the window, casting shimmery gleams along the beads of sweat trailing the younger woman's spine as she lays on her stomach, while Eve runs her fingers up and down Oksana's back.

Eve glances at the clock on the nightstand.

_2:13 A.M._

Eve's legs are thrown over Oksana's and her cheek is resting against the blonde's shoulder. They lay quietly for a very long time - the only noise in the room is the sweet and slow kisses they exchange, or the sound of contented sighs.

A thousand thoughts race through Eve's mind, but they aren't unwelcome - and for once, Eve doesn't feel a need to blurt each and every one out. She has never felt such a comfort for stillness - such comfort, in general.

She's tracing lines down Oksana's spine - letting her fingers run over the bumps - when she finally speaks into the stillness - a small stone thrown into a calm pond.. not shattering the quiet, just causing a ripple.

"You know," Eve begins quietly, "we still have never watched a movie together."

Oksana laughs, her body vibrating with the sound, before she turns to look at Eve.

" _That_ is what you are thinking about right now?"

She looks beautiful in the moonlight. Happy and unworried. It makes Eve want to kiss her.. and so, she does. She leans places a small kiss on Oksana's lower lip, which draws out a contented hum from the blonde's lips.

"I just realized."

Oksana's eyes light up - flashing with realization, before she sits up and starts looking over the bed for something. She finds her shirt and tugs it on. Eve wants to kick herself for the image breaking her heart.

"What are you doing?"

"One second." The blonde replies, before tugging on her underwear. Eve just huffs, and falls back into her pillow.

Oksana leaves the room, and Eve hears the sound of something being pushed across the floor. She is about to get up and inspect when the door to the bedroom creaks open.

Eve can't help but laugh at the sight of the younger woman - clad in a t-shirt and panties - pushing the ancient television into the room, until it sits at the foot of the bed. She plugs it into an outlet, before grabbing a VHS from the top of the TV, and pushing it into slot underneath the screen. 

Oksana waits for the screen to come alive, adjusting the volume, before pouncing back into bed, directly on top of Eve. Eve just laughs, pressing a kiss into the blonde's hair, before Oksana settles against her - body half-covering Eve's, leg strewn across Eve's hips, and face pushed into the crook of her neck.

Eve is surprised when she see's the title menu flash across the screen. _Risky Business._

" _Risky Business_? Really?"

"I have not seen it. It was just there."

The movie only plays for two minutes before the first snarky remark leaves Oksana's lips.

"Oh god, I did not know Tom Cruise was in this." She mutters against Eve's skin, and Eve can see the blonde's lip curl in disgust.

"Not a Tom Cruise fan, I'm guessing?" Eve inquires - all too happy, and all too intrigued.

"His face bothers me."

Eve just laughs, and they continue on like that.

Oksana relaying the not-so-occassional snarky remark, pointing out plot holes, and Eve just laughing. Each part of their body is touching in some way - their hands clasped, their legs intertwined, their lips never stay apart for long.

It is not until now, that Eve has no trouble imagining a future with Oksana. There's no way for here to - not when it's this easy.

They make it halfway through the movie before they have sex again.

* * *

Eve learns something about the both of them, on their fourth morning of cohabitation.

They were idiots to have spent so much time apart.

Eve wakes up peacefully - Oksana spooning her this time, one hand thrown over Eve's waist, the other under Eve's neck.

Eve had woken up a few times in the middle of the night to readjust, and had come to find that Oksana had only two forms of sleeping. The first involved firmly cuddling the older woman - with a strong preference for being the big spoon. The second involved sleeping like some sort of spread-out starfish - taking up as much space as humanly possible.

Eve figures it should annoy her. It doesn't. Not a bit.

She stirs in Oksana's arms, which causes the younger woman only to cling harder. Eve turns to face her, and delivers a gentle kiss to the corner of the blonde's mouth.

Oksana sighs, lips chasing after Eve's comically in her half-asleep state, before allowing her eyes to open.

Eve doesn't have to look at the clock to know that it's late - probably early afternoon, but it doesn't worry her.

They stay like that for a while - exchanging sleepy kisses, and rolling around in bed, until their bodies will them to get up. 

When they get out of bed, they don't spend much time apart either.

They take a shower - Eve washing Oksana's hair, laughing at the sight of the sudsy mohawk she attempts to give Oksana - which leaves the blonde mortified and pouty. It just makes the older woman laugh harder. Her laughter is effectively killed when Oksana takes her time to wash Eve's hair. She does it delicately, slowly - with the same precision she would use to carry out a kill. Eve wonders how long she's thought about doing that.

Even when they cook breakfast, they never physically separate for long. Oksana delivers Eve's coffee mug to her with a kiss on her jaw; Eve wraps her arms around the younger woman's waist from behind while she cooks eggs over the oven.

It feels magnetic. Right. Like the universe is thanking them for finally doing what they should have been doing for all along.

Eve relishes in the feeling of peace that has washed over them - a peace that they have both worked so dutifully to create. She sips her coffee, leaning against the door frame while Oksana hums to herself as cuts up strawberries.

Eve wonders what it would take to shatter such a peace.

Doesn’t have to wonder for long.

A noise, she realizes. A knock sounds through the house, rounding up every bit of peace and safety flittering amongst them, and obliterating it.

They both freeze when they hear it - eyes wide with panic as their gazes me, with no time to react, because another one follows shortly afterwards.

Another knock at the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a little harder to write, but the challenge was fun. this is going to be a five-part piece after all, and i appreciate every single one of you who reads and comments! i love it when ya'll let me know what you think and it really fuels the fire to keep going. it has been such an honor to get to unpack these characters and explore them further..
> 
> also i'm sorry there is so much crying, lol, but i can't imagine it playing out any other way when oksana is making active strides to regain touch with her humanity after so long. i hope it isn't too much of an exercise on your patience!
> 
> as always, thank you so, SO much! see you on the next chapter, or in the comments hopefully!

Oksana moves first.

Before Eve can unglue her feet from the ground, the blonde is rushing out of the kitchen - moving quickly, and quietly, into the living room. 

She watches as the blonde rips the pillow off the couch, retrieving the gun that lives underneath it, before tucking it into her back of her waistband and throwing Eve a glance that looks an awful lot like _Please leave the room now, Eve_.

It's enough to kick the older woman into gear. She shakes her head, taking a firm step forward and crossing her arms, before Oksana can open her mouth to object.

"Don't even say it." Eve quietly commands through gritted teeth.

Oksana continues her challenge her with her stubborn eye contact, but Eve doesn't relent. Just shoots her back a look that says _We are in this together now._

She watches the younger woman's jaw tense, before she rolls her eyes, and relents. She uses the gun to wave Eve out of eyeshot of the door, and Eve moves accordingly - standing near the living room table.

A third knock comes, and with it, a whirlwind of fear in the pit of her stomach - the stakes feel a lot higher now. Not because she is worried about suffering some sort of gruesome death at the hands of the Twelve - that is obviously not _ideal_ \- but because she worries about Oksana's safety far more than her own.

She knows that the younger woman mu st be feeling the same. Her movements are disjointed; full of tension, and strain. She's moving in a way that concerns Eve - and the older woman wonders if the blonde could pull herself together if she just left the room, like she was commanded to.

Eve only entertains the thought for a second - the stakes are higher, but they work better together. It's an undeniable truth that the both of them know.

The blonde moves towards the door, and composes herself, one hand resting on the gun behind her back - the other slowly turning the knob. Eve doesn't miss the small tremble in the blonde's fingers as she does so.

The door cracks open, the sound of a pin dropping in a quiet room, and Oksana cracks it just enough to reveal.. _Abban_.

_Jesus fucking Christ_ , Eve thinks, as she allows herself to finally take a breath. Her body relaxes a bit.

Oksana's doesn't - and when she steps into view to get a closer look, she understands why.

Abban is smiling at her nervously - hands tucked into the pockets of his overalls - and he looks like a man who is doing his best to appear composed, but agitation is swimming under the surface.

"Top of the mornin', ladies." He offers a tight smile, and Eve returns one that is equally as tight.

Not Oksana, though - it only took her one second to assess the situation, and Eve just watches in admiration as the blonde maintains a composure that is relaxed and carefree.

"Mornin', Abban. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Oksana asks, her Scottish accent flowing in a chipper manner as she leans against the doorframe - removing her hand from the gun in favor of crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I wish I could say I was just droppin' in for a cup of joe, but not the case this mornin'." Abban admits, running a hand over the back of his neck before taking a step closer to the younger woman. Eve takes a step forward - feeling protective, and alert.

Oksana quirks an eyebrow at the man in response, and he continues.

"Your aunt dropped by. You weren't kidding when you said diverse family, eh? Ye didn't tell me you had Brit in ya!" He jokes, but it's clear from the slight shake in his voice that he knows something is up.

A moment passes.

Maybe two.

They don't have to spend too much time guessing just who he's referring to.

Eve deflates - _visibly_ , she's sure.

Oksana doesn't.

She responds in fake concern at the man's joke, arms uncrossing as she straightens her posture and steps closer to him.

"My aunt is here? Is everything okay?"

He relaxes a little bit - much like a dad would to calm his worried daughter, before responding.

"Oh, yeah - yes, everything's just fine. She mentioned she was passing through, and wanted to pop in to check in on you girls. She asked to come down and see you yourself, but I figured I'd give ya some warnin' first. I know how family can be." Abban continues, and some sense of relief - small, given the circumstances, but present - pumps in Eve's heart.

It's evident that Abban is not totally convinced everything is okay, but he is not a threat to Eve and Oksana. He's a loyal man - more concerned with Oksana's well-being, than anything else seemingly. In fact, it's commendable. Not many people would allow such a barrier of precaution, and Eve can tell that although the man is seemingly jolly - there is something in his life that has hardened him, something that drives him to protect Oksana.

Eve fondness only grows for the Irish stranger.

"Oh, Abban.. I do appreciate the warnin'. My aunt can be a.. _stark_ woman," she relays, offering the man a timid smile before continuing, "I do hope she hasn't troubled you in any way."

Abban laughs, tension melting away as he leans closer to the blonde, as if the two of them are engaging in some kind of inside joke. "Yer tellin' me! You shoulda seen the way she turned her nose up at the coffee I offered her. Those brits, so picky.." He shakes his head, exhaling a bit, before letting his gaze fall on the younger woman inqusitively. "Shall I send 'er down then?"

Oksana rolls her eyes playfully, before nodding. "Yes, go ahead and do that. Trust me.. you do not want to spend any more time with her than ya have to."

He nods, turning to retreat back to his own house, before hesitating. He turns his body back towards Oksana, stepping forward and putting a hand on the younger woman's shoulder - somewhat awkwardly - before softening his gaze, in true paternal fashion. "Ye know, Maise, you can always talk to me if somethin's wrong. I won't judge - that I promise."

Oksana smiles, bringing her hand up to cover the one Abban has resting on her shoulder before exhaling through her nose. "Thanks, Abban. It's just..", she lets her hand fall back down to her side, "family stuff. I'm sure you can imagine. Let's just say Eve and I aren't travelling just for the heck of it. Gotta just.. get away sometimes, you know?"

The blonde cocks her head up at the older man, who releases her shoulder, and looks completely convinced and relieved.

_Damn_ , Eve thinks, _she is good._

Abban smiles down at her, eyes shimmering, before turning to leave for real this time.

"Alrighty then, I'll send 'er your way. Godspeed! Oh, and hi, Rory. Sorry to be rude."

Eve offers him a small wave in response, and then the man is on his way. Oksana closes it, and turns to face Eve, letting her back rest again it before running her hands over her face.

"Auugghhhh!" The blonde lets out a deep and prolonged yell, turning to kick the door, before letting her forehead fall against it - hands balled at her side.

Eve takes a few steps forward, letting a hand come up to rub a comforting circle along shoulderblades before the blonde turns around to face her. Her eyes swimming with a thousand things - anger, determination, fear.

Eve opens her mouth, "How..?"

It's the only word that escapes, but it's not like Eve has to finish her sentence for the younger woman to know what she is asking.

"I have.. no idea." Oksana's tone is tinted with disbelief, and Eve isn't surprised.

They thought they were safe. Untraceable, for now. But Eve figures there's no such thing.. not when it comes to Twelve.

Eve hardens her resolve, figures that they only have a few minutes before there is another knock at the door, and knows that they need to rely on each other's strength to get through.. whatever the fuck is about to happen.

"If the Twelve wanted us dead, we'd be dead. So let's just see.. whatever it is they want, and then we'll figure it out, okay? Together." The older woman enunciates the word, in hopes that the blonde won't forget it - not even for a moment. Oksana's eyes glimmer at that a bit - a glimmer that symbolizes a feeling of unity not before felt - and Eve smiles, tries her best to make it reassuring. "One step at a time."

Oksana nods, pulling at the dark-haired woman's hips, and kissing her - it's brief, but warm, and confident. It's enough to make Eve think they can get through anything.

* * *

They sit at the table, anxiously, until the knock finally comes.

Eve is first to stand up this time - jumping out of her seat, and quickly making her way to the door - the blonde trailing closely behind.

Eve allows herself a deep exhale, before turning the knob and throwing it open to reveal exactly who they expected to see.

She's dressed in a fashion that Eve has become all too-familar with - grey pantsuit, unwrinkled and sleek - and her posture is straight as she meets the ex-MI6's agents eyes.

"Carolyn." Eve mutters through gritted teeth, fake smile plastered on her features.

"Eve." Carolyn responds, lips pursing in what Eve has come to know as Carolyn's version of a smile, brief and disappearing as soon as it appears. Her eyes trail over Eve's shoulder, where the British woman see's the younger woman looming expectantly. "Villanelle." It makes Eve want to growl, throw her body in front of the blonde so that Carolyn can not even dare a glance in her direction, and she figures Carolyn senses it.

Oksana just grunts in response, unfazed and full of annoyance.

"I do wish I could say it was a pleasure." Eve almost forgot how emotionless her voice sounded, like a posh robot, Eve rolls her eyes accidentally and Carolyn quirks an eyebrow at that. "But if I can be I frank, I am a little too un-caffeinated and all too impatient to entertain the notion of lying right now. May I come in?" It's a useless question, Carolyn's always are - as she's already stepping into the farmhouse, eyes darting around the living room as she does - effectively bursting the bubble of safety Oksana and Eve had created the the last three days.

They are caught in some three-way-staring-contest - Oksana and Eve gazing at the older woman bitterly, and Carolyn gazing back completely unperturbed.

"So.. are you going to make the coffee, or shall I?"

"Mugs are in the cupboard to the right of the sink." Oksana growls, arms crossed over her chest, making it damn clear she is not doing a single thing for the MI6 agent.

Carolyn nods, putting her hands into her trouser pockets. "Very well, then. I suppose it's time I suggest the two of you sit down. We do have quite a bit to talk about." Carolyn relays, nonchalantly, as she makes her way to the kitchen.

They're sat around the dining table - and Eve can't help but notice what a scene it is.

Oksana is sat, looking like a petulant child, while Carolyn sips her coffee as if that's all they're there to do - old friends catching up over a cup of coffee. Eve just looks on silently between the two of them, trying to entertain how the hell this could end up.

"Mm," Carolyn says, lowering her coffee cup onto the old wooden table, "much better than the sludge that Irish fellow offered me up there."

"His name is Abban." Oksana mutters through gritted teeth, causing Carolyn's to quirk an amused eyebrow in response.

Eve folds her hands over the table, leaning forward.

"How did you find us, Carolyn?"

Carolyn doesn't miss a beat - she never does, it annoys the living shit out of Eve - and she just leans back in her chair before responding.

"Quite easily, Eve. I had all of your suitcases bugged. Quite some time ago, actually. Before Rome, when you were acting.. _erratically_." She glances between the two of them - making it abundantly clear just what she means. "I wasn't confident that you weren't going to run off at a moment's notice."

Eve's jaw goes slack, leaving her mouth agape while Oksana just quirks an impressed eyebrow, before responding.

"Wow, that is.. _thorough_." Oksana relays it with a cadence that feels a little too much like _why didn't I think of that?_

Eve looks at her in disbelief, kicking her under the table, causing the blonde to jump in her seat before narrowing her eyes at Eve.

"Hey!"

Carolyn rolls her eyes, before clearing her throat - effectively drawing their attention away from one another, and back to the older-woman who looks all too out of place in their temporary home.

"I am the only person who knows your location." Carolyn offers, and Eve narrows her eyes.

"What makes you think I believe a word that you say? How can I be sure the Twelve isn't just waiting for your mark - waiting for you to say the word, before they come in and kill us?"

Eve is burning holes into Carolyn's eyes, or attempting to - they're impenetrable, Eve figures - but Oksana is doing the same, and that makes her feel a little more intimidating.

"That is not a current possibility." Carolyn responds, inhaling deeply, before taking another sip of her coffee. "The Twelve has.. disbanded."

Eve spits her coffee back into her cup at that - expecting Oksana to make a quip about it immediately - but when she doesn't, the dark-haired woman glances over at the blonde to see her looking similarly wide-eyed - more composed than Eve, undeniably, but shocked.

Eve leans further towards Carolyn, resting her weight on her elbows, "How can we trust anything you say?"

Carolyn smiles tightly, folding her hands in her lap. "Oh, you can't. I'm perfectly untrustable."

She adjusts, crossing one leg over the other, before continuing. "However, I do think it's safe to say that it is very likely that our interests.. _intersect_. For the first time, I dare say we are undeniably on the same team."

Oksana lets her head fall back as she releases a laugh, before she levels eye contact with Carolyn. "What could you possibly understand about _our_ interests?"

Eve nods, before offering her own input, "Furthermore, what makes you think we would believe, for a second, that you _care_ about our interests?"

Carolyn considers their questions, nodding gently, before tapping the rip of her coffee mug. "While the Twelve has formally disbanded, it should come as no surprise that they are still attempting to operate. Under the radar, of course. However, it's extraordinarily messy - messy to an extent they have yet to exhibit. It is that exact messiness that makes them more dangerous than ever before." Carolyn inhales, holding it for a moment, before exhaling. "I assume that we both hold strong interest in seeing them taken down."

Oksana's lets out another sharp laugh at that, eyebrows knitting together before she leans forward, invading Carolyn's space. Carolyn doesn't retract.

"How can you hold strong interest in seeing something taken down that you are involved with?"

Oksana questions, and it makes Eve close her eyes. It is a confirmation - pointed and sharp, and something the ex-MI6 agent knew deep in her bones.. but now the information is in front of her, without an ability to deny it. Eve wonders why it hurts. She figures it's because there was some part of her that always did maintain a good faith in Carolyn, even when the older woman made it very hard to do so. It's frustrating, but in an exhausting way. Eve doesn't fantasize about closing her hands around the British woman's throat, but she does fantasize about never seeing her again.

When she opens her eyes, she is met with the image of Carolyn studying her - gazing at her with eyes that look like the most stoic apology Eve has ever received.

She answers Eve, instead of Oksana.

"It was the Twelve who ordered Kenny to be killed. Helene, to be exact."

Oksana's eyebrows raise at that - lets her lips purse and unpurse with a quiet pop.

"Why?" Eve prods further.

"He was getting too close to the Twelve, just as Konstantin said." Carolyn laughs quietly, but Eve can't ignore the pained look in her eyes. "You know, some part of me had convinced myself that he could follow in my footsteps. But it was never the case. His heart was too.. pure, too strong."

Eve swallows - the mention of Kenny's death still eliciting a very powerful response from her. It is the type of loss that always lingers, always looms.

"It all came to light after Paul's.. death." Carolyn chooses the word with precision - cautious to use correct language even when everybody in the room knows exactly what happened. "Konstantin wasn't the only one with his fingers dipped far into the honey pot. Paul was dealing with other organizations- MI5, GCHQ, DI. It all became very.. convoluted. Everybody's finger pointed in opposite directions."

Carolyn lets her eyes drift to the window, letting her posture slip only slightly.

"And Helene's, finally, pointed at me. At this pace, it'll be a miracle if I survive the year." Carolyn laughs, humorlessly. "I'm not so concerned with that. I'm at that point in my life - I welcome death with open arms. However, I do feel something stoking.." Carolyn hums, returning her gaze to Eve's. "I am, undeniably, very interested in seeing justice be served before my time comes to a close."

Oksana and Eve are quiet - studying the older woman, and trying to find anything other than honesty in her words. They have no reason to trust her, but a woman - knowing damn well - that she's at the end of her life doesn't have good reason to keep lying. They all know that if Helene wants the older woman dead, then her time will be up sooner rather than laater - that may be the only thing they can all agree on wholeheartedly.

"They took my son, Eve."

It is a statement - or trying hard to be one - but it sounds more like a plead. Carolyn's voice trembles as her tongue rolls over the word _son_.

Eve lets out a shakey sigh, unable to maintain her eye contact with the British woman. Kenny's death is still.. raw. Probably won't ever not be raw, Eve thinks. An open wound, shared and felt by everybody who knew him. Eve runs her fingers through her hair, and bites her lip to still any tears that threaten to fall.

Oksana is the first to respond, not taking the bait, in the least - but inspecting it.

"What do you want from us?"

Carolyn pulls herself together - pained eyes returning to a healthy shade of calculated. She straightens her posture before turning her body to face the assassin directly.

"Helene is the only thing holding the Twelve together, at this point. Her power is.. undeniable."

Oksana quirks an eyebrow at that, smirk pulling at the corner of her lip. "You don't have to tell me." She replies with a look in her eye that can only be described as.. _dreamy_. Eve hates herself for feeling a tinge in her stomach.

"Several members of the Twelve were preparing to pack up; flee the country.. before she gave them the order to stay. She has a tremendous amount of assets, and thus, a tremendous amount of capability. Her death won't cause the Twelve to become permanently obsolete. I am not sure anything in the world will." Carolyn sighs, relaying a fact she wishes she wasn't right about. Oksana nods slightly at that, before the older woman continues. "However, it will cause the Twelve to collapse in on itself.. at least, for the foreseeable future. And that is in everybody's best interest right now. Especially yours, Villanelle."

The blonde's eyebrows furrow at that, and Eve's head snaps up to look at Carolyn - eyes aflame, and panicked. 

Eve feels her pulse pick up; can hear her heart beat in her ears.

It isn't surprising.

They knew it was a possibility - that the Twelve was just as interested in Oksana as they were in Konstantin.. but they thought they had more time. 

Eve's color drains from her face, and she croaks out a broken, "Why Oksana specifically?"

Carolyn's raises a stupid eyebrow, yet again, at Eve's use of the young woman's real name - but Carolyn doesn't turn her body away from Oksana. She just taps her fingers on the table, and answers Eve's question whilst not tearing her gaze away from the blonde.

"You managed to ruffle quite of a few of Helene's feathers by killing Rhian."

Eve's nose scrunches up at that, before turning to look at Oksana. "Rhian?" She questions. They still had only scratched the surface of talking - but she is surprised the blonde hadn't mentioned this yet.

Oksana doesn't glance at Eve, or Carolyn for that matter - she maintains a frozen, wide-eyed gaze on her lap.

"The problem with Helene.." Carolyn continues, disgust tinging her words, "is she operates with just as much emotion as she does pragmatism. She does not like to be crossed. It's what makes her being in a position of that much power so dangerous. She's.. unpredictable." Eve doesn't miss the way Carolyn's eyes flutter over Villanelle's disposition as she says the word _unpredictable_.

Eve clears her throat - forcing Carolyn to look at her, before shooting daggers into her ex-boss' eyes. Carolyn just shakes her head, continuing on.

"She's also all-too aware that you have.. _turned a new leaf_." Carolyn chooses the words carefully, gesturing between Oksana and Eve as she does so. "She knows that it's unlikely you will return to work for her again. She does not like that, of course. But she especially does not like it now that you have been a Keeper and know the names of every high-ranking member of the Twelve. Including hers."

Oksana's eyes go cold - and she brings her gaze up to meet Carolyn's. It sends a chill down Eve's spine - it's a gaze she associates strictly with Villanelle, not Oksana; a gaze that she almost forgot existed, a gaze that breaks her heart completely.

"So that is you what you want? For me to kill Helene?" Oksana barks - it's shrill, and humorless. "I will kill them all, no problem. I can do that without working for you."

Oksana is leaning forward - arms on her knees - in a way that makes Carolyn retract, even if she does it subtly. Eve and Carolyn exchange a knowing glance - Oksana is overwhelmed, fearful, and angry. It's a cocktail of emotions that is convincing enough that Eve has to remind herself that this is the same woman who only admitted to her two nights ago that she has regretted killing people. The same woman that is so traumatized that Eve knows there's a possibility she may not even be able to kill in her current state, even if she wants to. She assumes Oksana knows this too - and that's why she's is forcing such an air of confidence.

Eve also knows that the blonde knows that it is their only possibility at leading a life free of the Twelve - a life of safety.. some version of it, at least.

It makes Eve wants to throw up, jump off a cliff, and climb back up the cliff, just to jump off it again. Oksana is back in the position she started in - was forced in, trapped.. unable to live a life without other people commanding what moves she has to make to do so.

Eve doesn't throw up, doesn't even let herself falter. They take turns being strong. It's Eve's turn.

"Hey." Eve speaks gently, leaning forward over the table, waiting until Oksana's eyes turn to her. They finally do, and when they make eye contact, the hardness and facade falls away. Eve holds her hand out over the table, uncaring that Carolyn is in the room, and Oksana hesitates before taking it. When she does, Eve squeezes her fingers. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Oksana allows a small smile at that, and it's enough for Eve to know that she's pulled herself out of that corner of her brain that she's so used to retreating to - the corner that forces her into darkness; into a place where she is asbolutely alone.

Carolyn clears her throat. Eve rolls her eyes, giving Oksana's hand one more gentle squeeze, before pulling her hand back into her own lap.

"I am not asking you to work for me, Villanelle." She affirms, quiet but powerful. "I am asking if you want to work with me."

Oksana's eyes narrow, and she leans back in her seat - crossing her arms over her chest. "What about Eve?"

"You two would be working together - similar to how you were before Rome." Carolyn doesn't miss the way the two women flinch at the mention of the word, and she hesitates, that same annoying inquisitive stare taking place, before continuing. "You'll need somebody to act in lieu of Konstantin. While it is true that you are en exquisite killer, Villanelle, you and I both know that this is not as simple as carrying out a hit on any target. Helene is highly protected, highly skilled, and highly unpredictable. She, quite literally, sleeps with one eye open."

_Literally? How is that even possible?_ Eve is about to interject, but Oksana beats her to it.

"Thank you for the compliment, Carolyn. I will accept it even though I know that you are just trying to _put butter on my biscuit_ ," Carolyn raises two eyebrows at that, and Oksana just rolls her eyes, annoyed, "or however you say. You English people have too many analogies." Oksana leans forward, elbows on the table, before she continues. "I meant, what about Eve's safety? Is Helene after her the same way she is after me?"

Carolyn considers this, very carefully - before answering. It pique's Eve's interest. She can tell the British woman is trying to figure out how her response will deter or encourage Oksana working with her. Eve knows Carolyn well enough to know that she is losing whatever inner battle she's fighting with herself. When the British woman removes her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, slouching a bit - Eve knows that's she's settling for honesty. Even Carolyn has tells.

"Helene's only interest in Eve, currently, is in direct regard to you, Villanelle. Eve is only valuable to the Twelve if she is able to lead them to you." Eve stills; surprised as the information being given to them. She can't bring herself to look at Oksana yet. "Of course, I can only speak of their current interests. This very well may change in the future, but the Twelve has several points of interest and not enough man power to focus on all of them. They are having to cut corners." Carolyn fixes her glasses back onto her nose before closing out her statement, and fixing her eyes upon Eve. "If you wanted to, Eve, you could flee the country and probably have a pretty good shot at living out the rest of your life unscathed. The Twelve rarely offers grace periods - but you are experiencing one, as we speak."

Eve swallows, finally musters up the courage to chance a glance at the younger woman. She regrets it immediately.

Oksana is completely deflated in her chair. Her eyes, no longer cold like they were when she was trying to counter Carolyn, but cold as in frozen. Irises stuck in a state of paralysis. Eve can't gauge how she's feeling - but Oksana looks like she is feeling nothing and everything at the very same time, and can't figure out how to respond to it. It's the most concerning shape Eve has seen her take yet.

Eve retracts her thought about not wanting to strangle Carolyn. She wants to crawl across the table, and place her hands around the older woman's long neck. Wants to scream in her face.. _Y_ _ou decide to be honest for the first time in your life over this? Why couldn't you just have lied, you old fucking bird?!_

_"_ Oksana.." Eve begins gently, but the blonde cuts her off, in favor of speaking to Carolyn.

Her words are lifeless and cold as they leave her mouth.

"Where do they think Eve is, right now?"

Carolyn responds, immediately, sipping her now-cold coffee once again.

"The same place they think I am. Cuba, chasing after you and Konstantin."

"That worked?" Eve asks, impressed; all too grateful for the subject change. She shoots Oksana an optimistic look, but it falls on empty eyes as the blonde can't even bring herself to look at the dark-haired woman.

"Yes, well they have no other leads, so." Carolyn shrugs. "I am to be in Cuba for another," Carolyn looks at her watch, which doesn't make sense, but Eve knows the older woman has a taste for theatrics, "four days until I return to London where I meet with Helene."

"And that's where you want me to kill Helene?" Eve wishes she could feel grateful to hear Oksana speak again, but the words remain unchanged - lifeless, cold, empty.

"Precisely." Carolyn hums into her coffee, making it clear she has nothing left to offer until Oksana either agrees or disagrees.

"What is in it for me? For Eve? If I say yes?"

Eve's closes her eyes tightly, winces a little bit at the separation of their names - not _us_ , but two entities.. floating in different realms with a line drawn right through the middle of them.

"The best version of safety you can hope for, probably. I do not make promises I can't keep. So, I hope that you can understand I can only upkeep promises while I am alive. That may be longer than expected, if Helene does in fact die." Carolyn offers it stoically, speaking of her uncertain future the way one would about going to the grocery store. "The Twelve are scared - out of their wits, to be exact. If Helene, their highest-ranking member, dies.. they will have no interest in picking up where she left off. It is safe to say that you know the Twelve as well as I do, Villanelle." The blonde snorts at that, and Carolyn continues. "Well enough, at the very least. They are greedy and selfish - they care extensively about making money, but they care even more about staying alive to live out the rest of their.. greedy, selfish little lives. Take out their top player, and they won't dare go after you. In fact, they'll most likely be doing their very best to hide from you. And I will be doing my best to make sure that if one of them decides to get brave, that I will lead them as far away from you as I possibly can."

A beat passes.

"I have made many errors in my life. Being visibly disloyal to the Twelve is not one of them. Aside from Helene who's trust in me has since wavered - they value my word, immeasurably."

Carolyn and Villanelle are staring at each-other, and Eve is just watching - feeling all-too much like a bystander without any say. Then she remembers, that's exactly what she is.

Oksana narrows her eyes, and leans forward, asking Carolyn a question that feels more like a test.

"And what if I say no?"

The older British woman doesn't hesitate before answering. "Then I'll be on my way, and you two will be free to continue, well, whatever this is." She gestures to the living room of their farmhouse, to the two of them. "It is a choice, Villanelle." She leans forward too, not breaking eye contact with the younger woman - only strengthening it. "I am not here to _make_ you do anything. I am not interested in it."

The words ring against the wooden walls of the home - bouncing around, before bouncing back to Oksana. She relaxes a bit as she registers them, shoulders dropping only slightly.

The blonde doesn't say anything, just turns her face to look at Eve. Her eyes are still cold, but not so lifeless - sorrow has replaced whatever absence was lingering beforehand, and it only makes Eve's heart drop a little further. The younger woman is looking to her for consideration; for confirmation.

Eve weighs the pros and the cons.

Cons: Carolyn could be playing them. But given everything that has happened, and given her ability to read the older woman at least a little bit, Eve does not think that is the case. Regardless, it is a risk.. but she feels it in her bones that Carolyn holds just as much disdain for the Twelve as the two of them.

Pros: Helene gets whats coming to her. Her and Oksana have a shot at a life.

Eve doesn't waste too much time before considering, before giving the blonde a slow nod.

Oksana inhales deeply, closing her eyes tightly, before reopening them and allowing her gaze to settle on Carolyn.

She nods.

"I will do it."

Carolyn nods in confirmation. There is nothing celebratory about it - rather just an acceptance of what needs to be done, and now they can start doing it.

"Splendid. In four days, there is a 5 AM train from Baltimore to London. Indirect - it stops in Liverpool, but it would get you into the city by 5 PM which is precisely when I will need you there as I will be meeting Helene for dinner at 7:30 at the Dorchester Hotel, where she will be staying."

Eve notices Carolyn's use of the word _you_ and _not the both of you_.

Eve leans forward, slowly and confidently, before asking, "Why do I have a feeling that I will not be on that train?"

"Oh, because you won't."

Oksana glances at Eve from her periphery - and Eve glances back longingly. The distance between them aches before it is even palpable.

"I need you to remain off-site, in order to track Helene. The farther away, the better. This location is perfect, actually."

Eve flounders, opening her mouth and closing it, before half-shouting the only string of her words she is able to produce.

"What if things go wrong? What am I supposed to do?! Get on a train for twelve fucking hours and hope that I make it in time?!"

Carolyn just frowns at Eve's raised voice, but she folds her hands on the table before responding in an even tone. "That is precisely why I need you to remain at a favorable distance, Eve. Your position in this is one of extreme value, but I can not trust you to not.. _meddle_ , if you are close by. Given the nature your rash-decision making, and unpredictable pursuits.. I can't trust that won't happen if you're close, and Villanelle is in danger."

"Why would she be in danger?!"

Eve shouts, before feeling her stomach sour. She opens her mouth to protest again before she feels a warm hand on her forearm. Oksana is leaning over the table, resting her palm lovingly on Eve's skin. It's an area of peaceful warmth on Eve's body - the only area. It's a useless question, un-answerable, Eve knows that any situation where somebody is killing another person is inevitably dangerous, but Eve can't accept that. Not now. Now that the stakes are so high. Not that now she _loves_ Oksana. Can't imagine a world without her. Can't imagine a world where Oksana can't live out her youth the way she's supposed to.

Carolyn doesn't fix her gaze on their physical contact, this time - she just tilts her head down to look at Eve over her glasses before responding.

"Because Helene is highly unpredictable. But I am trying to carry this out in the most cautious manner possible. That is why I am going to bug her at dinner, so that Villanelle can kill her later in the night - when she's not so.. alert."

Eve wills herself to calm down - and where the panic begins to wash away from her brain, the cogs begin to kick into gear.

"Why do you need me to track her if you know where she's staying?"

Carolyn adjusts her glasses. "Oh, because she is not actually staying at the Dorchester. We never assign places to meet days in advance - as a security measure, so I thought it odd when she relayed me that piece of information. It's a fluke. She wants to me to think that she is staying there, to draw attention away from wherever it is that she has found accommodation."

Oksana lets out a breathy laugh at that, letting her hand retract from Eve's arm. The dark-haired woman feels the absence immediately.

"How do you expect to bug Helene at dinner? As you said, she is.. _tightly wound_." Oksana settles for a word choice that Eve deems mild, considering what the blonde actually thinks about the Twelve member.

Carolyn lets out a hum of consideration.

"As I said before, Helene's trust in me has wavered, since Paul's death. But she is confused - something she positively hates to be. She thinks that I killed Paul because of his betrayal to the Twelve, but she has a looming suspicion that it was for a deeper reason. Obviously, that suspicion is correct, but she doesn't know that for certain. If she was sure, there would have already been an attempt on my life - probably several. I assume she's using this dinner not only to gain intel into Konstantin and you, but as an excuse to feel me out. She's losing her mind a bit, I think."

Oksana nods slowly - admiration playing softly at the corners of her eyes. Eve knows the blonde does not necessarily care for her Carolyn, but she values attention to detail. There are many things to be said about the British woman, but she is excessively thorough.

"Do we have to leave?" Eve asks apprehensively. She would usually put a little more effort into masking that level of emotion, but this far along in the conversation - she can't seem to bring herself to.

"No, actually, I'd prefer the two of you stay here until it's time for Villanelle to leave. Like I said, I am positive that I am the only person that knows your whereabouts. Outside of that, you are perfectly untraceable. Well done." She nods her commendation to Oksana, who nods back.

"How am I supposed to do any tracing from here? I don't know if you've noticed but this place isn't exactly on par with the MI6 office."

"It will be very similar to the Aaron Peel situation. Bug, grain-of-wheat microphone. That I expect to stay inserted _at all times.."_ She gives Oksana a warning look, which the blonde just shrugs off, before returning her attention to Eve. "and software that offers insight into the both of them. I have a laptop in my rental car. I didn't want to bring it in prematurely. As I said, this is.. a choice."

Carolyn stands up, wiping her hands on her trousers. The two women stay seated, casting hesitant glances at the subtle concern that plays over the woman's face. "That is why I feel it my duty to let you know that I can not guarantee anybody's safety. Helene employs a level of security that makes the Oval office look lacklustre. The stakes are.. immeasurably high, especially for you, Villanelle." Carolyn bows her head a bit - a motion that could be taken as gratitude, or a sergeant sending his soldier off to a war he knows he may not return from.

Eve closes her eyes, tries to steady herself, balls her fists so hard that her nails break the skin in her palm.

Oksana takes note of this, and tries to remove some of the weight from the air in the room with her reply.

"Good thing I am such an _exquisite killer._." She relays the sentiment back, in a cadence so cocky that Carolyn can't help but roll her eyes. Eve feels the blonde's attempt at a playful energy - and tries to let it wash away her nerves, but it can only do so much.

"Very well, then." Carolyn makes her way towards the door, and the two of them stand up as well. "I'll grab the laptop and then be on my way."

She shuts the door behind her, leaving the two standing beside the dinner table.

The air is filled with tension, loud enough to counteract the harrowing silence that is taking place between them, and Eve is surprised when she finally looks at Oksana - that the blonde is regarding her with eyes that are full of love and comfort.

Eve exhales, eyes watering in a way that is out of her control, before she takes a few steps and collapses into the younger woman's arms.

Oksana holds her tightly - rocking her a bit - as she kisses the shorter's woman's hairline.

"It is the last stop, Eve. This, and then we can be free."

The word drops like honey off the blonde's lips, and Eve wants to catch it in her hands - lick it up, and savor it in her mouth - but she knows that where there is sweetness, there is also poison. Easily consumed if not careful.

"Promise me."

Eve feels Oksana's arms still around her, knows she's pushing the blonde towards a promise she can't keep, but she doesn't care - she just clings to the taller woman harder, pushing her face into her chest.

"Promise me that you'll come back to me."

She feels Oksana inhale, and her arms still hang somewhat limply around Eve.

"Eve, I.."

The older woman cuts her off, presses her forehead into the crook of her neck.

"I don't care if it's empty, you idiot. Just promise me."

She figures Oksana feels the tears on her neck - and so the blonde tights her grip, placing another kiss to Eve's hairline before committing, "Okay. I promise."

They break apart when they hear the front door open again.

Carolyn is regarding them with a heavy gaze - somewhat pained - as she holds out the laptop for Eve to take.

"You're familiar enough with the software for me to not to have to go over it with you, I assume."

Eve nods - she couldn't forget her work as a field agent even if she tried. Could probably do it with her eyes closed.

Carolyn nods, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Very well, then. I'll be on my way. Godspeed, to the both of you," Carolyn moves towards the door, but hesitates before exiting through it. She turns her body back towards Eve, throat bobbing, before she admits, "I do hope we see each other again, Eve. I'm sure I have made it perfectly impossible for you to believe, but I have always viewed you as more than just an asset."

Carolyn nods, seemingly satisfied with the admission - and Eve figures that's the British woman's way of letting her know she cares about her. Eve nods, fumbling for words.

"You.. too?"

She figures that's fine.

Carolyn gives her a smile, before retreating back through the door, out of sight.

The energy in the air shifts dramatically after she leaves - less tense, but not the same as before. The atmosphere has been undeniably disturbed. Where it was once full of post-coital pillow-talk and lingering kisses, it now feels threatening.. begging to be made the most of while a bomb hangs over their head.

* * *

They decide to go for a drive.

Eve isn't sure why, totally - she has a lot of unspent energy, could definitely take some of that out on her legs - but she also wants to be out of the house; off the property.

She also wants to feel in control, of something, anything - she realizes, when she asks if she can drive the truck.

("Do you even know how to drive a manual, Eve?" Oksana asks, cautiously.

"Kinda." Eve replies starkly - her truthful admission carrying an argumentative tinge to it.

"Okay." Oksana agrees, in understanding.. and Eve kisses her. Thanks her with her lips for just saying okay when she could have voiced a thousand hesitancies instead.)

Eve is not very good at driving stick-shift, they both realize, as the car continues on a very disjointed journey through the surrounding farmlands.

Oksana moves to help, before Eve swats her hand away.

"I got it!" She yells, tense and desperate, before stalling out.

Oksana just raises her eyebrows at her from the passenger seat, and Eve narrows her eyes - trying her to best to be defiant, but she just relents before accepting the blonde's help.

They continue on like that, driving - Oksana telling Eve when to release the clutch, and moving the stick into the right gear accordingly. The rides goes a lot smoother.

They are silent for a while - the silence in the car is fuzzy, the radio turned down enough to only be relaying barely audible white noise, as they roll through hills of green.

It's not the same kind of silence that they have been entertaining for the past three days - avoidant, waiting for one to the open the door so the other can step through. This silence is pregnant - desperate to be broken, but both unsure how to do so when it is hard to even find a starting point.

"Clutch." Oksana whispers, prompting Eve to move her foot onto the throttle, before the blonde moves the gear shift. She lets her hand linger on it, tearing her gaze away from the window to look at older woman. "I can not stop thinking about it, Eve." Her voice is quiet with trepidation.

"What?" Eve questions back, a little desperately. _Which part?_

_"_ I do not think Carolyn was lying." Eve see's Oksana's hand tighten on the gearshift, and she moves her foot to the throttle - but when the blonde doesn't give her further instruction, Eve realizes she is just gripping because her hand yearns to. Yearns to grip onto anything. "The Twelve is not after you. You have a shot." She retracts her hand, and lets her gaze fall back onto the scenery. "A shot out of.. this."

Eve attempts to shift gears when she turns onto another winding road, and fails. She stalls, feels her eyes prickle, as she jolts the truck into the correct gear.

"Don't do that." The words are watery; spoken through gritted teeth.

"Do what, _Eve_? I am talking, like we agreed to do." Eve chances a glance at the younger woman in the passenger seat and she is looking at her despairingly, blonde pieces of hair that have escaped from her bun glittering in the sunlight.

"Encourage me to leave you." Eve's voice breaks as she closes her sentence, and she tries her best to steady herself - but she can feel the wetness on her cheeks; can see her hands trembling against the steering wheel.

"I can not encourage you to leave me if you die before you can, Eve!" Oksana's voice raises, and Eve feels it reverberate in the contained space of the car. Eve doesn't have to look to know she's crying, but she does anyways. Her tears are falling erratically, too fast for the blonde to wipe them away if she tried. She doesn't. "My mother was right, okay?! I am a darkness. Everything I love gets consumed by it. _I_ consume _everything_ that I touch!"

Eve jolts the car to the right, causing both of them to shift in their seat, pulling off to the side of the road before slamming on the break. They are both breathing heavily by the time the car stills, and Eve unbuckles her seat belt. She leans over the glove compartment, cupping both of the younger woman's cheeks in her hands. God, it seems impossible that they both still manage to have tears in them - but here they are, crying mercilessly, in the quietness of the car.

"Listen to me. Your mother was _wrong_." Eve musters all the power she can manage into the word, and watches as Oksana's eyes flood with untapped emotion. "You are _not_ a darkness, okay? You are _full_ of light, Oksana."

The blonde's cry turns into a sob, and she opens her mouth to protest, but Eve rushes to interject - raising her voice in the process. "Look at me, I am _still_ here. I am not going anywhere! You have touched me, and I have _never_ felt more free. If I am going to be consumed, it is my choice. But it will not be by your darkness, because it does not _exist_. Your mother put a lot of false ideas in your head - ones that I may never be able to counter. But I need you to hear me that you are so far from whatever darkness you believe yourself to be."

"I need.." Eve chokes a bit, feels her chest contract - it reduces her voice to a trembling whisper. "I need you to know that I am not going anywhere. If we get consumed, then we will do so together. But I will not get consumed by you, because it is not a possibility. _This_." She lowers one of her hands from the younger woman's cheek, to place it over her heart. " _This_ is my choice. This is where I want to be."

It should drain Eve - the amount of energy she puts into the admittance, but it doesn't. It rejuvenates, lifts a thousand weights from her shoulders, and strengthens her spine. It is everything she wants Oksana to never forget; everything she needs her to know. She figures it's not the first time they'll have this conversation - Oksana's mother instilled years of trauma, and it will take years to heal - probably never fully will. Eve is no fool. But she will remind the blonde a thousand times, if she has to.

Oksana is trembling, and her shoulders shake with a violent sob. She reaches up to grasp Eve's hand with both of her before turning her face and crying into it. It's a messy one - full of snot and tears and hiccups, but Eve recognizes it to be a release. An image of grief leaving the body.

The blonde tugs on Eve's hand under the older woman is halfway lunged over the glove compartment and Oksana throws her arms around her shoulders - clinging to her and murmuring watery _thank you_ 's into Eve's neck. Eve just wraps around her, holds her as tight as she possibly can.

When the younger woman finally pulls back, her eyes are still welled with tears. She's wipes at her nose frantically, as she begins to sputter. Trying to communicate everything all at once, and so nothing comes out.

"Eve, I.." She hiccups, trying to steady herself, but Oksana's eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

_Love you_.

"I know." Eve provides gently, wiping at the blonde's tears with the pads of her thumbs. She knows that if the blonde pushes herself an inch further, she may actually combust.

Oksana nods - hiccuping, and sniffling.

"Me too." Eve provides - and her heart releases a gentle thrum in her chest. She wonders how many different ways they can communicate they love each other without actually saying it, but it never feels less powerful - less special.

She kisses the blonde heartily - it's wet, and sloppy, and the blonde releases a quiet laugh against Eve's lips - and Eve can't help but smile before pulling away, adjusting back into the driver's seat and buckling her seatbelt. When she puts the truck into gear this time, she doesn't stall.

* * *

They drive along the winding road - following it as it takes them closer to the water - and Eve's hand rests on Oksana's thigh, rubbing gentle circles into the fabric of her jeans. It's quiet, and there's some feeling of triumph in the car - as if they have momentarily recaptured the sense of safety they have fought so hard to create. Eve is enjoying the quiet, and..

" _Eve_!" Oksana shouts, causing Eve to slam on the brakes - her breath catching in her chest, before she looks over panicked to see the blonde pointing at something on the side of the roaad.

Eve whips her head around and sees... a _fish and chips stand_.

Her mouth falls agape, and she treks her eyes back to the blonde with a murderous glance.

"What?" Oksana asks innocently. "I have not had proper fish in chips in years."

Eve's mouth just remains agape, before she clamps it shut and hits Oksana's shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Maybe you can relay that without shouting next time, you ass. I thought it was an emergency." Eve's tone is reprimanding, but she just tucks her hair behind her ear, before pulling the car over to the side of the road so they can stop at the stand.

Oksana shrugs at her, obliviously, "It is an emergency, Eve. I am starving. Your boss is a bitch. She makes me very hungry."

Eve just shakes her head at that, and lets out a quiet laugh. "Ex-boss. And I know."

They order a fish and chips combo for the both of them to share, and decide to eat it at a nearby bench at is overlooking the ocean. 

Oksana scoops up some tartar sauce with her fry, before popping it into her mouth. She eats ravenously, as usual, while Eve picks at her food. Contented, but stomach still churning at the thought of their conversation with Carolyn.

"Okay," Oksana says, before taking a sip of soda through her straw, "your turn. What are _you_ thinking about?"

"Rhian." Eve replies, poking at a piece of fish with one of the fries. Her tone is not accusatory - she has good faith that Oksana did not omit this piece of information intentionally, but that they had just not gotten around to it.

"Oh, yes," Oksana confirms, crunching another fry. "I meant to tell you. I just didn't get the chance yet. Not like we we did a whole lot of _talking_ last night." Oksana waggles her eyebrows, and Eve swats the fry out of her hand.

Oksana rolls her eyes and just picks up another one, before continuing. "That was an interesting one, for me."

"How do you mean?" Eve asks, pulling her hands away from the food in favor of folding them in her lap, turning her body to face Oksana completely.

"Mm, it was the first time that I killed somebody when I did not want to." Oksana points to the last fried fish tender on in the cardboard box, before asking. "Are you going to eat that?"

Eve shakes her head, and Oksana picks it up - biting off a small piece - before admitting, "But I did not know what else to do. So, you know.." The blonde trails off, and makes the inappropriately comic motion of drawing a knife across her neck.

That is.. _interesting_ , Eve thinks. The last, and only time, she saw Rhian was when they were dancing. Oksana must have killed her shortly afterwards - the night before they attempted to walk away from one another on the bridge.

Eve recalls Oksana's disposition on the bridge - gentle, nervous, giving - and Eve has a hard time picturing the very same woman murdering somebody, probably gruesomely, only 24 hours beforehand. It should not be hard for Eve to wrap her mind around at this point, but it still is.

Eve lets a few more moments of silence hang between them, allowing an open opportunity for the blonde to unpack that more if she wants, but Oksana just continues to chew on her food contentedly so Eve asks the next question.

"Is there anything else you think I should know about?"

Oksana's lips purse at that, and she hesitantly chews on another fry before letting her hand fall away from the box. She casts her gaze over the ocean, looking child-like and guilty, and Eve quirks an eyebrow at that.

"I got married. In Barcelona." She relays, before biting her bottom lip - and chancing a side-glance at Eve.

" _What_?" Eve jerks, shocked, accidentally knocking over the cardboard box in her lap in the process.

"Eve! Are you serious?" Oksana is looking in disbelief at the mess of fries on the ground, as seagulls begin to pick at them.

"Oh come on, it was just bits." Eve rolls her eyes; can't believe she's even entertaining the blonde's sadness over the fallen food. "You got _married_?" Eve feels her stomach flip, burn, _tinge_ and she wants to bury her head in the sand. She can't believe the ache of jealousy she feels bubbling in her stomach - it's the last emotion she needs to feel right now on top of the the ones she's already drowning in.

"..Yes. I.." The blonde bobs her head from side to side, chewing on whatever words she's about to say, before relaying them, "Once I got to Barcelona, I needed to.. distract myself."

"By getting _married_?!" Eve interrupts, her eyes wide and swimming with shock - and jealousy, she's filled to the brim with jealousy, it's _gross_ \- as Oksana just shrinks a bit in her seat.

"Let me finish, Eve." The older woman snaps her mouth shut, letting her eyes communicate the fire she's feeling inside. "I tried to.. process here, in Ireland. Like I told you. But that did not work for me, so once I got to Barcelona, I tried to distract myself. Switch gears." She admits, with a shrug. "Her name was Maria. She was.. fine." Another shrug, and Eve can tell she's trying to choose her words carefully. It embarrasses Eve, when she realizes that Oksana probably senses the green monster bubbling underneath the surface of her skin, and is attempting to tip-toe accordingly. "Very.. rich." Oksana glances at Eve with a small, nervous smile.

_Was she beautiful? Did you fuck her? Did she make you feel.. anything?_

A thousand questions pop into Eve's mind - all of them senseless, and it pulls a frown from the older woman. Not only do they serve to make Eve feel like a high-schooler, but they just make her feel.. _gross_. Oksana notices the expression Eve is wearing, and reaches out to cover Eve's hand with her own. It just makes her feel.. _grosser_.

They're past this, Eve realizes. Oksana is not something for her to.. objectify, any more. She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to possess Oksana - she wants something much more than that. She wants to be _with_ Oksana.

So instead of pushing it down, and tiptoeing around what she's feeling for the thousandth time in the blonde's presence, she decides to just.. _say it_.

"That makes me.. insanely jealous." Eve admits, with a quiet laugh.

Oksana's reaction surprises her. Where the blonde would have been wearing a victorious shit-eating grin at any admittance of this in the past, she just offers Eve a small, understanding smile. "No need. I was never _with_ her. Even then, when I thought you were dead, I was still with you." She relays it quietly, allowing her eyes to survey the length of the ocean.

Eve takes the moment to look unabashedly at the blonde's profile - the sun is setting behind them, and Oksana's eyes reflect a deeper shade of hazel - more honey, than green or brown. Her jaw is relaxed, and she looks.. rested. Happy, somehow. Eve wonders if she's ever looked more beautiful.

She places a kiss on the blonde's jaw, which earns a contented hum from the younger woman, before intertwining their fingers and letting her head rest on Oksana's shoulder.

"It's silly, isn't it?" Eve asks, letting her eyes survey the water as well.

"Yes." Oksana replies, and Eve guffaws.

"Okay, you need a serious lesson in how to comfort people." Eve mocks, playfully.

She feels Oksana's laugh reverberate through her body, and Eve smiles.

"Do you ever feel that way?" The older woman asks, curiously, letting her thumb rub against Oksana's hand. "Still?"

"No." That grabs Eve's attention, and she rests her chin, instead of her cheek, on the blonde's shoulder so she can glance at her profile. Oksana looks open; confident. "It used to. _Obviously_. I used to watch you with Moustache and feel my insides burn. It would drive me crazy. I would lose sleep and just lay awake.. _burning_." Eve nods, gently, recalling the first year of their cat-and-mouse game vividly. "But not anymore. I think that even if you were to go off and.. sleep with a hundred people, it would not concern me." That surprises Eve even further, and she lifts her chin from the blonde's shoulder, looking at her intently with furrowed brows.

The younger woman meets her gaze, and she gives the older woman a smirk. "Do not get any ideas, Eve. It would not concern me, but I still would not like it."

Eve just lets out a surprised laugh at that, because _Duh_. The older woman just searches the blonde's face with her eyes, begging her to continue.

"I know now, what is between us." She turns her face to look at Eve, head-on, eyes swimming with honesty and open-ness, vast like the ocean in front of them. "It is not something that can be replicated, or challenged - I have realized. So it does not concern me, because.. I feel it. We belong together - like an invisible string is attaching the two of us." Eve's heard thuds in her ears, and she just watches as the blonde regards her calmly. "You feel it too, yes?"

The words take Eve's breath away - literally - so she just finds herself nodding back, softly and firmly. There is no other way to put it. She doesn't believe in a higher power, and she's not even sure she believes in fate - but there is something holding the two of them together. It wouldn't let Oksana bleed out in the streets of Paris, it wouldn't let Eve take her last breath in Rome, and it wouldn't let them walk away from one another on the bridge. It is a choice, but it is something much more than that, too. Something that Eve would be foolish to deny.

"What happened to her?" Eve asks cautiously, realizing the fate of Oksana's bride (god, it's fucking _weird_ to think about) could have gone any way.

"Oh, I did not kill her." Oksana relays, a hint of pride rounding out her words. "She is still alive. Probably laying around in Barcelona, desperately wondering how to achieve the level of orgasm I _bestowed upon her._ " Eve bites her cheek to keep from laughing as the blonde closes out her sentence with a very Carolyn-esque British accent.

The tinge of jealousy is still there - but it's quiet, buried - and really, Eve just feels fucking sorry for this Maria woman.

"Yeah. She's probably wishes she was dead. You should have mercy killed her."

Oksana's eyes flash as she smiles devilishly at Eve, an unprecedented level of cockiness overtaking the blonde's features, and Eve rolls her - tries to remember to only feed the beast's ego one crumb at a time. 

"So, are you still technically.. married?" The dark-haired woman asks, crossing her legs as Oksana wraps an arm lazily around the back of her shoulders. They sit, slumped and comfortable, as the sun sets.

Oksana scrunches her nose up as a seagull flies a little too close to them, and Eve wonders if the younger woman just hates every kind of feathered-creature. The blonde leans down to pick up a french fry, and throws it a few feet - luring the bird away from them.

"You know, Eve," she begins, teasingly, letting her hand squeeze the older woman's shoulder, "if you are asking for my hand, you should really get on one knee."

Eve scoffs, pushing herself away from the woman, but Oksana just wraps both arms around her - holding her captive. 

"Just out of curiosity - it is possible for you to not be an ass for five minutes?"

" _Nope_." Oksana releases the word, her mouth letting out a soft pop as she sounds it out.

* * *

They head back to the car a little after the sun sets, hand in hand, and happy - despite the current circumstances.

Eve lets Oksana drive this time, and they decide to stop at the grocery store on the way home because the blonde is still hungry despite the mass amount of fish and chips she just inhaled - this time, for something _sweet_ , she clarifies.

And that is the first thing Eve learns about Oksana on their fifth day of cohabitation. 

It is so severely mundane, given the whirlwind of fuckery they have experienced in the last eight hours, that Eve laughs as she makes a mental note of it.

Oksana has _really_ shitty taste in ice cream.

Eve held her tongue in the grocery store, and on the way home, and even as she watched the younger woman scoop a serving into her bowl.

But now they're sat on the couch. _Beetlejuice_ is playing in the background on the TV that has been moved back into it's rightful place, and their legs are intertwined under the blanket they share. Eve is watching over her wine glass, as Oksana eat her ice cream - one scoop of Cotton Candy, one scoop of Rainbow sherbet - and sure, Eve is fixating a little too much on the blonde's lips wrapping around the spoon, but even that loses it's seduction when Eve remembers the flavors the blonde is currently consuming.

Okay, no it doesn't. But _still_. 

Eve takes a sip of her wine, and waits for Oksana to look at her. She does, eventually - as she always does when she feels Eve studying her, and the older woman just raises her eyebrows disapprovingly.

"You have the palate of a five-year old."

Oksana frowns, looking like a pouty child, which only reinforces Eve's point. She take another bite - defiantly, as if she's trying to prove that Eve is wrong and Cotton Candy ice cream is somehow the superior ice cream.

"Strong words coming from the same woman who couldn't stop complimenting the pasta dish I made three nights ago." 

Eve raises an eyebrow, setting her wine glass on the ground as she does so. Oksana just takes another bite of the brown rainbow of food that has accumulated in her bowl.

"I mean, Cotton Candy? Seriously?"

The younger woman rolls her eyes - pulling the spoon from her mouth, slowly.. achingly slowly, the heat between Eve's legs notes - before setting her bowl on the ground, and readjusting her legs over Eve's.

"Fine. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?"

Eve considers this, biting her lip, but her mind blanks. "I don't know. I like Vanilla."

The older woman has a sweet tooth - she used to keep candy in her drawer at work to stress-eat when Frank would send her passive-aggressive e-mails, but she likes the classics. Red Vines. Dark chocolate. Vanilla ice cream.

Oksana's eyebrows shoot up at that, and Eve notices the way the blonde bites down on her lip - it is a movement Eve has come to understand the blonde does before making some crude remark in attempt to see if Eve's eyes can roll fully into the back of her head.

Eve points a warning finger at her.

Oksana just shakes her head, unrelenting. "Eve. You can not expect me to leave that alone."

And when Oksana opens her mouth, Eve throws the blanket off of them - pouncing onto the blonde before she can speak another word. She has Oksana pinned underneath her - hands clasping both of her wrists - and the younger woman just looks up at her, smirking and mischievous.

It makes Eve wants to wipe that look clean off her face. So she does. Kisses her passionately.

She breaks the kiss before it gets too heated, and delivers a playful nip to Oksana's jugular. It elicits a moan from the blonde.

"I'll show you vanilla."

Eve murmurs into her throat, and that's the last full-sentence she strings together before they end up on the floor.

Eventually, they make their way to the bed. 

* * *

It's hours later when Eve learns the second thing about Oksana on their fifth day of cohabitation.

She wishes it was as mundane as ice cream flavors, and cotton candy. Wishes it was less deadly.

Oksana is much a better killer when she doesn't have anything to return home to.

Oksana is laying on her back, Eve curled into her chest. They're tracing lackadaisical lines on one another's body - skin still laced with a retreating sweat, but their breath has evened out. Their bodies are spent, and when it's clear they're not sleeping soon, but neither of them can manage another orgasm - Eve decides to ask another question that's been weighing on her heart.

"Do you think you'll be able to do it?" She lets a beat pass before adding, "Kill Helene."

She feels the blonde's fingers still on her thigh for a moment, hesitating, before she continues tracing patterns onto Eve's leg. The movement makes Eve's stomach churn.

"Yes." She offers, simply - sturdy in the way that Eve knows the younger woman believes what she's saying, but shakey in the way that they know Oksana has undeniably changed.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes." She offers, again.

Eve inhales sharpy, turning her cheek onto Oksana's chest, but not looking at her directly. The older woman doesn't know if she can stomach whatever look the younger woman must be wearing right now.

"Why?" Eve asks, simply - knowing there are probably a thousand different answers, but that she'll only be able to understand better if she knows at least one of them. 

"Huge question, Eve." Oksana laughs quietly, but Eve notices the way it trembles throughout her body. It is a question that has to be unpacked; dissected.

"Because of your mom?" The dark-haired woman asks cautiously, letting her fingers run up the length of Oksana's hip. The blonde shudders at the contact.

"Maybe a bit." She breathes the answer into the room, truthfully. "We both know that I have been. _._ mm," she pauses to search for the right way to put it, settles for another English analogy she seems to hate so much, " _off my game_ , since Barcelona. It is not all because of my mother, though." 

Eve waits patiently, and Oksana eventually abides. She stops tracing shapes into Eve's skin, and lets her hand settle onto Eve's thigh before answering.

"Killing is second-nature to me. I am very good at it, but I am best at it when I do not have to consider the consequences. It is not that I ever wanted to die, but I always understood it as possibility - far off, but.. _there_." It surprises Eve. Oksana has always moved with such confidence, like a feline who knows they'll get the mouse even if it requires a little chase - it surprises Eve that Oksana ever considered that things might not work in her favor. The blonde's tone softens, before she continues her sentiment. 

"But now, I care very much about living. I have cared, I think, since Konstantin told me you were still alive in Barcelona. And now.. mm, well, I care even more."

It is a completely truthful admission - and Eve is grateful for that, but she is not grateful for the way it sucks the wind out of her lungs. 

It is both the thing she wanted, the truth, and the exact thing she feared, Oksana not being able to work to best of her potential because she knows how high the stakes are. Knows Eve is waiting on the other side.

Eve closes her eyes, and nuzzles deeper into Oksana's chest - as if that will protect them from the truth of the situation they're in. Eve's voice is shaky again, when she asks, "Do you think you'd be able to kill Helene more easy if I wasn't.. here? In the picture, I mean."

Oksana stills, before sitting up slowly, propping herself up on her elbows. It causes Eve to sit up too, propping herself on her side, and Oksana is looking at her intensely, through furrowed brows.

"Hey, do not talk like that." It comes out as a quiet sort of command, but Oksana has a shocked look in her eye, like she can't believe Eve would entertain such a question.

"It's true, though, isn't it?"

Oksana's eyes searches her - painfully and desperately - but she answers her, gives Eve the truth, even when she does not want it. Eve is tired of being grateful for things she does not want to hear, she realizes.

"Probably. But it is not the situation we are in. Or _picture_ , as you said. It is not the picture we are in. I do not want to be in that picture."

If it was any other circumstance, Eve would laugh at how literally Oksana relays her words back to her - but Eve can't. Her body isn't allowing for much outside of grave, _grave_ concern.

"If Carolyn offered you the same job, but I wasn't here," Eve continues, she doesn't know why, "would you have responded the same?"

Oksana's mouth settles into a straight line, and her eyes become a little more serious than Eve ever likes to see them. "These are useless questions, Eve."

"I want to know."

Oksana searches her face again - and Eve knows she's looking for something she can't give her. She needs to know the questions to these answers, even if the older woman doesn't understand why she's asking them either. 

Oksana tears her gaze away, inhaling deeply, before relenting. "I would not do it. Probably. I would just.. go on the run, and stay on the run - for as long as I liked. But this - it does not matter, Eve. My life before this did not matter. It was meaningless - full of only death and running. But I do not want that stuff anymore. My life - it matters now, okay? I kill Helene, and we have some.. _guarantee_ of a future together. That's all that matters. "

Oksana is still searching her face, desperately, by the time she ends.

It kills Eve - knowing she is the one putting that that pained look in the blonde's eyes, demanding questions to answers she doesn't even know why she's asking. And it kills Eve, again, when the answer confirms the very truth she didn't want to know in the first place.

Oksana would probably be safer if she didn't have Eve to worry about. 

Oksana would probably be able to do her job the same as before if Eve had died.

And god, it's a fucked-up thought process - but it's an even more fucked-up truth.

Eve deflates, visibly, she realizes when Oksana is reaching out to stroke her cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Realizes, again, when Oksana's next sentence comes out in an insecure, broken whisper.

"We _are_ in this together, no?"

Eve swallows, steeling herself, before nodding assuredly. She leans forward and envelopes the blonde's lips in a warm kiss - hoping to convey a righteous kind of confidence. 

Oksana relaxes into it, and they lay back down into the pillows - Eve resting her head on the blonde's chest again, while Oksana's arms wrap around her - protective and secure. 

They don't say anything after that - just fall into a quiet kind of comfort, only outlined by the sounds of their hearts beating, and the occasional rustle of the sheets when Eve tries to push closer into the younger woman's body.

She's almost sleeping, some sort of dream unfolding behind her eyes, when Oksana whispers against her hair.

"I love you, Eve, but you ask stupid questions sometimes."

Eve's tired body lets out a barely-audible laugh at that, and Oksana stills - must have assumed Eve was out - before just clinging on tighter. 

* * *

Eve doesn't fall asleep after that, can't - not her heart reminding her it is a muscle that is very much alive in her chest, and her nerves dancing under her skin. 

Oksana is miles away, in a deep sleep - snoring slightly, and starfished across her side of the bed. She has since released Eve from her grip, allowing the older woman an uninterrupted amount of time just to lay on her side, and look at her.

Eve loves her - a tremendous amount. A love that is bigger than the thirteen years she spent with Niko, a love that is bigger than dedication she has to her work, a love that is bigger than anything she has known up until this point. 

It rocks Eve to her core, rocks her harder when she thinks about the possibility of Oksana not being able to live out the rest of her beautiful life because of Eve. 

The older woman continues to look at her, until she can't anymore; until her heart swells with an emotion too big for her body to contain.

She gently gets out of bed - all too cautious not to wake the younger woman, before tip-toeing into the living room where she finds their piles of discarded clothes laying on the ground. Eve slips into them quietly, with trembling hands, before stepping out onto the porch.

The cold air welcomes her like a long-lost home - she relishes the feeling of it sinking into each one of her pores, displacing the nerves that have been so actively dancing there for the last 24 hours. 

As Eve leans over the railing, watching her breath leave her lungs in grey puffs, she is reminded of Oksana sharing the stories of laying awake in her childhood home. She is reminded, achingly, of Oksana's neglected childhood, her stolen adolescence, and trauma-ridden adulthood. She is reminded of the future, of the sliver of possibility that Oksana might not get to experience one.

Tears roll down her face, trekking icy trails in the winter weather, and Eve considers whether the blonde would be better off without her.

She doesn't consider leaving, she asserts over her intruding thoughts, - they have a pact, now, unbreakable - but she considers the idea of it, and it breaks her heart into a million pieces. 

Memories flood like some dreary timeline behind Eve's eyes - when they first met in the bathroom of that probably-haunted hospital, Eve shoving a knife into Oksana's stomach, Oksana's lodging a blade between her shoulders, dancing together as Eve finally accepted her feelings for the younger woman, the bridge, their first night in the farmhouse, sharing fish and chips on the bench.

Her brain stops her there - lets her mind linger on that memory longer, maybe because it's the freshest one, or maybe it's because of what Oksana relayed to her during it.

_We belong together._

Eve answers her own question - the one she didn't even realize she was asking when they were in bed together. An exhale escapes her lips.

_Are you better off without me?_

Eve wipes away the last of her tears, and turns around. 

She knows exactly where she belongs, and so she heads there.

When she re-enters the bedroom, she sits down gently on the bed - taking one last, loving look at the sleeping blonde - before nudging her shoulder.

Oksana wakes up slowly - eyes battling pure exhaustion, as they flutter open - and she lets her eyes flitter over Eve's confusingly clothed-body, before settling on her face.

She doesn't question it - and Eve knows why.

Eve reaches a hand out to brush some stray blonde hairs away from the younger woman's eyes, before letting her hand rest on her cheek. Oksana is staring at her - eyes fully open, now - patient and waiting.

"I love you, too," Eve whispers, confidently and quietly.

Oksana doesn't react immediately - just stares back before replying,

"Of course you do." She says it matter-of-factly, as if it's the easiest thing in the world to understand. It catches the older woman off guard, and Oksana continues. "You are here, after all."

Eve just smiles at that, before leaning down to kiss Oksana once more. 

The blonde returns it lovingly, with a contented hum, before breaking away in favor of pulling aside the blanket as invitation.

"Now get back into bed. And take off your clothes. They're cold and unnecessary."

Eve laughs at that, before relenting. She strips, and tucks herself into Oksana's body - right where she is supposed to be.

They sleep very peacefully that night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, sweet ones - I stand corrected. this was, by FAR, the hardest chapter to write. it doesn't read so smoothly - kind of a bumpy ride, but I had to get it out before I managed to rip out all of my hair. I am once against giving my most sincere apologies for adjusting the length of chapters. I promise I'll be more diligent w/ planning in the next fic, but they had to be broken up! the (technical) final chapter will be 6, and I hope that I can reward you all with a more of a cohesive ride w/ that one! chapter 7 will serve as a postface - a glimpse into the future! 
> 
> I can't express enough just how much all of your comments mean to me. they seriously motivate me to get all these words out, and just make the journey all the more fun! sending all my love and well wishes to you all in these trying times. again, I can't say it enough but thank you for reading!

Eve learns only one thing about Oksana on their sixth day of cohabitation - or rather, their third to last day together.

(Eve has began to measure time differently ever since Carolyn's visit.

Before, she envisioned their time as a half-drawn circle - only beginning to round out, but unfinished with the freedom to go any direction. Now, she envisions their time as as some sort of abstract octagon - lines being drawn in an attempt to close out the shape - or this chapter of their lives - but you have to make it to the first point before you can start drawing a line to the next.)

Eve learns that it is actually much safer to not leave anything unspoken.

She learns it four separate times over the course of one day.

The first time it happens is when the older woman is making pancakes.

Eve wakes up before Oksana, for once, feeling entirely well-rested - which is miraculous, given the fact she probably only slept five hours, but the early morning energy leaves her wanting to do something nice for the younger woman.   
  


She treks a quiet trail from the bedroom to the kitchen, where she stands aimlessly for a while, trying to figure out what non-egg breakfast item she can whip up for the blonde. And she finally relents, finally accepts the fate of their morning, when she realizes the only other breakfast food she can make confidently is.. pancakes.

  
It doesn't take long for her to reacquaint herself with the kitchen, not this far along into their temporary takeover of the farmhouse, and within minutes she's pouring a thick, golden-brown mixture onto a griddle over the stove, forming the liquid into fluffy little circles that release sweet-smelling tendrils of steam into the air. The image of the pancakes forming little bubbles brings her back to a time that feels both very close by, and very far away simultaneously.

There was a time after Rome, when she was tucked away in her dimly-lit studio apartment, that she only survived off of instant noodles and pancakes. Usually instant noodles. But when she needed to feel some sense of pride; prove to herself that she could do something else with her hands besides murder - pancakes served as some sort of proof of that.

It's a fucking _miracle_ her body still functions, Eve thinks, as she watches the bubbles form.

She hears footsteps trekking into the kitchen shortly afterward, and she isn't surprised. She has learned that there are two full-proof ways to lure Oksana into her vicinity almost immediately: food, and derobing.

Eve hears the footsteps still in the doorway of the kitchen. When the blonde doesn't say anything upon her entrance, the older woman cocks her head to glance over her shoulder, spatula in hand, Eve is met with the site of a stark-still Oksana.

The younger woman is staring fixedly at her back - frozen, like a deer after hearing a nearby noise in the forest - and Eve quirks an eyebrow at that, bringing her hand up to adjust the string of her tank top in an effort to break whatever trance the younger woman is in.

Eve has an idea of what she must be looking at - and it makes her heart sting, _sting_ like the scar on her back.

The movement breaks Oksana out of her daze - and she quickly wipes the icy stillness from her face, blinking before leaning against the door frame and offering the older woman a tender smile.

"You are cooking. And the house is still in-tact." She narrows her eyes playfully, crossing her arms as she pushes away from the wall, before she slowly starts to make her way towards Eve. "That is a good sign."

Eve rolls her eyes, refocusing her attention on flipping the pancake in front of her - which gives her an excuse to hide the smile playing at her lips. "Good morning to you too, asshole."

Oksana doesn't respond immediately. Eve understands why as soon as she feels two arms loop around her waist, and a delicate kiss is being placed to the base of her neck. And when Oksana just rests her chin on Eve's shoulder, the older woman leans back a bit - settling into the warmth of her body.

"Good morning," the blonde offers, softly, before Eve feels her shoot into an upright position only a moment later. " _Oh_!" Oksana releases Eve from her arms in favor of doing some kind of little _jump_ thing.. that is seriously endearing, and oh-so out of character. "I love pancakes."

Eve quirks an eyebrow at the comment; a soft laugh escapes her lips as she shakes her head. Always surprised. "You are seriously a child."

"Hmm.." Oksana starts, leaning forward to scoop some batter on to her finger and lick it, raising her eyebrows at Eve. "Careful, Eve. If I am a child, then you are what they call a _cradle robber._ "

Eve mouth falls open, because _Gross_ , and she hits the blonde's arm with the dirtied spatula, causing Oksana to respond in faux pain - clutching her arm, before narrowing her eyes at Eve. "That is _very_ unsanitary."

The younger woman reaches out a menacing hand to gather up more batter, that Eve assumes is going to be used as a precursor to some sort of food fight, so she blocks it before ordering Oksana out of the room with the spatula. "Go. Sit."

Oksana relents, huffing. Before she turns to exit the kitchen, she sticks her tongue out at Eve - which really only reinforces the child comment, but she lets it go as she is not quite caffeinated enough to entertain the idea of pancake batter ending up in her hair.

* * *

Eve watches Oksana over her coffee cup, in equal parts disgust and amusement, as the blonde shoves her last forkful of pancakes into an obscene amount of syrup before shoveling it into her mouth. After she swallows, she sits back and places a hand on her stomach - a rare declaration of her fullness.

Eve smiles. After the egg incident, she struggled to figure out how much food she should make between the two of them - but the equation she settled on seemed to work in her favor. She concluded that when she is the one doing the cooking - she just has to plan as if she's making food for her, Oksana, and two other people. That seems to just about satisfy the blonde.

Oksana grunts quietly, leaning forward and setting her elbows on the table, resting her weight on them. "I think I ate too much."

Eve raises her eyebrows, before setting her coffee cup on the table. "So it _is_ possible." Eve just grins in mirth when the blonde lets her forehead fall into her hands - clearly somewhat miserable from the amount of sugar she just consumed. "I'm sure it's nothing one of your three-mile runs wont fix."

Oksana shakes her head gently, removing her forehead from her hands in favor of resting her chin in her palm. "I am not going on a run today. I am going to go visit with Abban."

"Oh?"

"Just for a cup of tea. I figure that I will have to give some foresight before running off this time. Otherwise, he may be confused why I am gone in three days and you are still here." Oksana stares intently at Eve's eyes, and it suddenly feels like an interrogation rather than a question. "You _will_ still be here, yes?"

Eve swallows. Nods. Nods as if she hasn't been trying to formulate some sort of plan to get to London since the moment Carolyn told her she wouldn't be going with Oksana.

Oksana just raises her eyebrows further - silently prodding.

"Yes, I will be here." Eve manages, and figures it sounds somewhat.. _believable_. Sure, she's a shit liar - but after going rogue as a field agent, she managed to learn a few tricks to keep her head above sand. But she still feels it. Feels the ache in her chest; feels her conscious poking at her. God, even telling the blonde something as a simple as a white lie feels fucking sinful. They have a pact now - to talk, to not keep things from one another, but it's not a total lie if Eve doesn't even have a plan to spill the beans about yet.

She just knows that it's as important to keep things under wraps in front of Oksana as it was to do so in front of Carolyn. Especially after last night, Eve knows there's a small chance that the assasin could fumble in killing Helen if she knew Eve was nearby. The effect they have on one another is powerful - usually good, but sometimes bad. _Especially_ bad if it results in Oksana being off her game even by a centimeter.

Oksana just continues to stare at her silently, and Eve meets it head-on. She doesn't look away, and she doesn't falter. 

The younger woman relents eventually, leaning back in her seat - and her eyes look a lot more like she's accepting whatever Eve is telling her in the moment, rather than taking it as fact.

"Okay," Oksana lets out an exasperated sigh, before examining her cuticles. "I figure I will tell him that our Aunt delivered us some bad news, and I have to go to London for a few days to see to it. But you will be staying, because you still need some space." She lets her eyes slowly crawl back up to Eve's before she crosses her arms over her chest, and puts on that familiar Scottish accent. "Family stuff, ye know?"

A genuine smile spreads across Eve's lips at that - more to do with the fact that the blonde is letting whatever Eve may be up to slide rather than press her about it, and less to do with whatever incestuous family charade they're clinging to.

"Do you want me to go with you? Wait," Eve's eyebrows furrow, remembering their interaction in the grocery store, "didn't you sign us up for some dinner date with him this week anyways?"

Oksana nods. "Mm, yes, but we will have to cancel." Oksana juts her lip out in a fake pout at that, and Eve rolls her eyes. The blonde continues, "I value my time, Eve, especially when that time involves you. And currently, our time is limited." She bats her eyelashes, before leaning further over the table. Eve watches as the blonde's eyes flash with something a little too vulgar for the dinner table. "Abban isn't the worst person to spend time with, but I can think of _many_ things I'd rather be doing instead. Can't you?"

Eve throws goes dry, at the question.

The juxtaposition is stark - it always is - but Eve can't believe the darkness of the eyes she's looking into now, and Eve has to remind herself these are the same eyes that were clouded with a pouty petulance over eating too much sugar only moments beforehand.

It keeps Eve at the edge of her seat. Keeps her wanting. Keeps her throat dry - so she settles for a nod.

"Okay!" Oksana's tone reaches a new octave of her chipper as she slaps her hands on her knees, before standing up. It makes Eve jump. "I should get to it, then."

The younger woman picks up her plate, and starts making her way to the kitchen. Eve just sits there, hot and bothered, as she hears the plate drop into the sink, and then suddenly Oksana is standing at her side - her hand resting on the older woman's shoulder.

"Thank you for the pancakes, Eve. Even if they did scorn me." The blonde leans down, invading Eve's space once again in a way that feels less-than-innocent. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." She kisses Eve heartily - in a way that is all-consuming, and Eve feels the lace of desire transfer onto her lips. It tastes like maple syrup.

Then as quickly as the blonde started it, she is ending it - pulling away and leaving Eve to chase after her lips comically, eliciting a satisifed smirk from the younger woman. Eve wants to wipe it from her face, but she doesn't get the chance when Oksana is grabbing a coat from the couch, pulling it around her shoulders, and heading out the door with a "Bye, baby!"

Eve lets her her head fall back - and she bites her lip to hide her smile, even if there is nobody to hide it from.

When she gets up, she decides to take a shower. A very cold one.

* * *

Eve hums, as she props open the laptop Carolyn bestowed upon her - towel wrapped around her wet curls, as she sits in her tank top and pajama shorts on the couch.

The farmhouse is all-too quiet without Oksana around. So quiet, that Eve tunes into the sound of her own humming just in time to realize what's she's doing.

She's not one to hum around the house; never has been - she regards it in the same way she regards whistling. Annoying.

This stumps her, eyes pulling away from the laptop screen - and she takes a moment to consider the time's in her life in which her mood has elicited humming, and knows that its been few and far between.

She would hum sometimes, making coffee in the morning after her and Niko had an exceptionally good bang. Aka, one that extended beyond missionary. Or at work after she successfully cracked some months-long case, and Elena would have to tell her to shut up. Or after she won a bet against Bill, and she'd hum simply to deepen his pout around the office.

Anyways, not a hummer. She can count on one hand the times in her life she's been in a good enough mood to hum. So she thinks it particularly funny that now, her body is reminding her just how content it is - when that very contentedness will be ripped away and replaced by something much more devastating in only a few day's time.

It toes a miraculous line - her body and spirit feeling like they're constantly being torn in half - and Eve wonders what her life would look like if she didn't take the route that she did. If she didn't decide to fly to Berlin to chase down a psychopath. If she never took Carolyn Martens up on her offer to dive a little deeper; reach a little further.

She wonder's if she'd still be with Niko, eating eggs that their chicken laid for breakfast.

The thought makes her scrunch her nose up; makes her stomach turn.

Not because the thought of being with Niko and living a life that she once did is necessarily grotesque, but because the thought of living a life without Oksana in it is a thought that is not bearable.

Damn. She really loves her. And so, she hums.

She hums while she clicks on the Hotspot that the laptop is offering up, as they always do - untraceable and undetected - and clicks through the software, only to find exactly what she expected. A whole lot of.. nothing. The software is installed, but will remain blank until the target is wearing the bug - but there's nothing further than that. No secret notes Carolyn has typed into a secret file somewhere, no further information on where Helene may be staying, nothing.

Eve closes the laptop, sufficiently bored, before rising from the couch to busy herself with another activity. The dishes piled in the sink of the kitchen reflect a glint of sunlight - and she rolls her eyes, but when she can't think of anything else to occupy her hands, she abides.

* * *

It's happens for a second time when Eve is finishing the dishes.

She's scrubbing the last pan, working away at stubborn batter, when she hears the door close. She smiles to herself, hearing Oksana trotting in her direction - but that smile slowly falls when the same scene from this morning replays in some fucked-up version of _Deja Vu_.

Oksana pauses in the doorway, making an entrance without saying anything, but this time - Eve is able to see her reflection in the window in front of the sink.

The older woman pauses scrubbing the pan, and let's her eyes focus on the reflected image of Oksana stark-still in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the back of Eve. When she looks a little closer, she's able to confirm - for sure, this time - that the blonde's eyes are honed in to the area directly beneath her right shoulder blade.

The break of skin - white, and circular, and smooth - that Eve carries as a permanent reminder of what could have been, if tourists hadn't stumbled upon her bleeding-out body in Rome on that summers day.

Oksana doesn't move, doesn't realize Eve is staring directly at her in the window's reflection - so the older woman takes that as cue. She exhales deeply, placing the pan in the bottom of the sink, before shutting off the faucet and turning around to face the younger woman.

_Well_ , Eve thinks, _guess it's time_.

When Oksana finally refocuses her attention, and her wide eyes trail up to meet Eve's - there is an air of tension, swirling like an invisible tendril between the two of them. It is palpable, and suffocating, and very much not a string.

The string serves to connect them, serves to remind them that they belong together - even if they chose not to be. But the tendril.. the tendril serves as a barrier, serves to remind them of every reason they should not be together - even if they're meant to be. It lurches in Eve's chest, claws at her ribcage, and the older woman figures the only way to kill it is.. to address it.

The silence hangs between them, heavy and penetrating and useless, so Eve kills it.

"So," her voice is stern and quiet, as she lets her palms rest on the sink behind her, "do you want to talk about it?" 

She doesn't know what to expect. She can think of a few possible scenarios - Oksana feigning ignorance with a shrug of her shoulders and a _Talk about what, Eve?,_ Oksana retreating backwards - out of the room, out of the house, out of Eve's vicinity, Oksana just freezing, malfunctioning at the immediate mention of anything Rome-related.

What Eve doesn't expect is Oksana steeling herself - inhaling as she takes a few hesitant strides forward until she's lingering in front of Eve, and yes, there are tears prickling the corners of the blonde's eyes, but they aren't threatening to fall - they are just simply existing, because that is how the body reacts when you decide to stitch together a still-bleeding wound. But that is what you have to do - to heal the wound; for it to not get infected.

She watches Oksana's throat bob as she swallows, her eyes fluttering a bit as she blinks back tears, and she crosses her arms across her chest - in an attempt to sturdy herself, maybe, but Eve doesn't miss the way her fingers tremble against her arms. "Can I see it?"

Eve feels her own throat threaten to close - but she clears it, fighting against her body's natural instinct. A quiet laugh escapes her lips. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

It's Eve's way of acknowledging that the hurt has gone two ways - that a knife has two blades, a shotgun has two barrels.

It's Eve way of saying _we have hurt each other_ and _we can heal each other_.

Oksana's eyes still on Eve's for a moment, before she slowly uncrosses her arms and lifts her shirt far enough up her belly to reveal a thin white scar - a broken piece of flesh amongst the smooth material of the blonde's body. Eve inhales sharply, at the sight.

It's not that she hasn't seen it before - _of course_ she has, many times, the same way Oksana has seen hers. But they have maintained a perfect ignorance to that single inch of one another's body - careful not to touch it the same way a horse avoids an electric-wire fence. In an attempt to not disturb the peace.

Eve steps forward, and she doesn't realize she had been mirroring Oksana's body language until she's reaching out a shakey hand, hesitating before gazing into the blonde's eyes for approval. "Can I touch it?"

Oksana is holding her breath, Eve realizes, but she nods - slowly and surely. Eve reaches out until her trembling fingers make contact with the younger woman's skin - the scar feels entirely too cold and smooth to be a real piece of flesh - _barely there_ , Eve thinks, _yet ever present_.

Oksana gasps at the contact, but watches curiously as Eve traces her fingertips over the mark. Eventually, the younger woman's hand comes down to cover Eve's - stilling her motions, and holding it against the wound.

"Why did you stab me, Eve?" She whispers inquisitively, eyes clear and open, and there is not a hint of judgement in her voice. There is not a hint of condemnation. There makes no sense for there to be either of those things - because Oksana already knows the answer, as does Eve. They just need to hear each other say it.

Eve closes her eyes, letting her thumb brush against the scar one last time, before opening them to answer the younger woman. "Because you killed Bill. Because I wanted to prove that I could. Because I was terrified of the way that you made me feel. Because I thought stabbing you would make it.. _go away_."

Oksana's eyes burn with an honest acknowledgement, hearing everything that she expected to - but everything she knew she needed to, before letting her hand fall away from Eve's. Eve's hand just remains flush against the blonde's belly, until Oksana asks in return, "Can I see yours?"

Eve's retracts her hand from the blonde's skin slowly, before turning around. She pulls her curls to the left side of her neck - leaving an unobstructed view of the injury, and she feels it. She feels the hole burning in her back, as if the ghost of a bullet passed through her again. She closes her eyes, and allows her palms to rest against the sink - this time, it's her turn to maintain an upright position.

Oksana fingers come up to trace the wound, and they do - ever so gently. It barely qualifies as a touch, but Eve can feel the tip of her fingertips as they circle the scarred tissue. She braces herself, knuckles turning white as she grips the sink, before asking, "Why did you shoot me?"

The blonde's fingers still, and Eve thinks she's going to retract them. Instead, she whispers, "Because I thought it was the only way I could make you stay." And with the admittance, she allows her fingers to flatten against the bullet hole - acknowledging it, and embracing it for what it is. For what they can't ignore. "Because I thought I loved you."

"You didn't?" Eve asks quietly, asks a question she already knows the answer to.

"No." The blonde offers gently; simply, before pressing her lips to the scar obstructing Eve's back. It makes Eve shudder completely - an offer of warmth against the one area of her body that never feels any. It's not erotic, not in the least, but the touch feels inexplicably intimate - something bigger than the two of them. "But I do now."

Eve inhales deeply, not needing to prod further, as she knows exactly what the blonde means. It reflects a conversation they had only six nights ago - a conversation that feels like six years ago.

_I didn't love Anna. I wanted to possess her._

And another conversation, they had five days ago.

_You are most beautiful when you are free._

And another conversation, they had just the night before.

_I love you, Eve._

Eve leans back into the blonde - allowing breath to re-enter her lungs, as tears fall quietly from the corner of her eyes. Oksana's lips break away from the skin on Eve's back, and she wraps her arms around the older woman's front - letting her chin rest on her shoulder.

"I am sorry, Eve."

The words break whatever tendril of tension was still hanging between them - whatever tendril of darkness was still lingering and poking into whatever light they were trying so desperately to create. They are the most powerful for words Oksana has ever said to her - maybe even more so than an _I love you_ \- and Eve regrets, deeply, ever stripping the blonde of the opportunity to say them.

Eve wraps her arms around the blonde's - clinging to her tighter, inviting every opportunity for her warmth to seep into Eve's body - and Eve replies, sincerely.

"I'm sorry, too."

Eve turns around in the blonde's arms - letting her arms fall around the taller woman's shoulder - before enveloping her lips in a warm, and forgiving kiss.

"It's okay." They mutter against one another's lips at the very same time - and they laugh at that. They laugh because there is nothing else to do. They are free. Free to do as they please, and so they stay like that for a long time.

Holding each other in the kitchen, trading wet kisses; exchanging tear-stained laughs.

* * *

It happens for a third time, later that afternoon.

They sprawl, lazily, in the field of grass - hidden behind the farmhouse, the structure serving as some sort of shield that will protect them from Abban's potential gaze.

The view is much better further down the property - where they are able to see the open water, but they figured this is the safer bet because not touching one another is not an option right now.

It doesn't bother Eve, in the least. She can look at the ocean whenever she wants to. But getting to observe Oksana, sprawled out in the grass next to her; honey-blonde hair grasping at the green blades, is something she can't take for granted. She tries to commit the image to memory; hopes she never has to.

Oksana is on her back - one hand pulling at the blades of grass sprouting underneath them, while the other is tracking quiet circles into Eve's open palm. The older woman is propped on her side, just looking at her - unabashedly. It's not an action they have to hide from one another anymore, and Eve counts her lucky stars for that.

"God," Oksana laughs, quietly; turning her face to let her eyes fall on Eve's. "I think that I have been more honest this week than I have in my entire life combined."

Eve lets out a soft snort at that, before moving her hand to brush some of the blonde's hair away from her face so that Eve can look at her, unobstructed. It's a selfish act, Eve thinks, but she's always been a little selfish.

"That sounds about right." Eve offers. "Me too, though."

"Really?" Oksana quirks an eyebrow at that.

"Yes, I've been lying my whole life. So often - that I just got used to it." Eve admits, inhaling. "To my parents, to Niko, to myself."

"What made you want to stop?" Oksana asks quietly, continuing to draw shapes into the palm of Eve's hand.

"I don't think I had a choice." Eve bites her lip. Releases it. "Whatever.. _darkness_ I was trying to ignore inside of me was beginning to bubble over. You saw."

Oksana's eyes flash with realization, "Your monster, hm?"

Eve nods.

Oksana pushes off her back, mirroring Eve's body language and propping herself onto her side so she can face the older woman.

"Do you still feel it? Here?"

Eve considers this - eyes bouncing around the scenery, as she does. She hasn't had much chance to feel it, not tucked away in the nest of safety that is Oksana and the home that they've made, but she felt it - teeth bared, and growling, when her Carolyn Martens showed up at their door.

"I felt it when Carolyn mentioned Helene - you having to kill her. I imagined doing it myself. I imagined tearing her throat open with my bare hands." Eve offers, honestly, and her voice is void of any emotion aside from the icy chill that tinges the words as they leave her lips.

Oksana's eyebrows don't raise, she doesn't blink; she just nods, in understanding.

"Do you think about killing people?" The blonde asks, gently.

Eve considers. Considers the sick thrill that came with splitting Raymond's head open. Considers the man she almost pushed onto the train tracks at the station. Considers how easily she can lose herself in the heat of the moment. "Sometimes."

"Do you think you'd be able to kill again?"

A beat passes.

"If you had to?" The blonde asks, inquisitively - but not in a way that's interrogating, simply in a way that she's trying to understand the older woman fully. Eve would kill in a heartbeat if it meant protecting them from some disturbed Twelve agent who was hunting them; forbidding their safety. Oksana is probably the one person in the world who could understand her, Eve thinks.

"Yes." Eve admits.

"What if you did not had to?"

Eve swallows at this. She thinks of Raymond again - thinks of the sick thrill, but thinks of the guilt and remorse and disgust as well. It was a constant battle within herself - one she was always losing because there was no way for it to be won - but she tended to relive the darker parts, more than anything else. A pulse of light, slashing the darkness - to the best of it's ability.

"No. No, I don't think so."

Oksana contemplates this, giving the older woman a soft nod before laying back down onto her back. Eve's eyes continue to outline the profile of her nose - the swoop of her nose, the fullness of her lips, the soft skin stretching over her neck.

"What about you?"

Oksana hums, eyes heavy with consideration, before she answers.

"I will kill, if that means protecting us. That is what I'm going to do in a few days, after all." Oksana relays, matter-of-factly. "But I do not think that I want to kill outside of that. Not for a while." Oksana laughs, humorlessly, eyes on the sky before adding, "I wonder if I have felt that way for a very long time. I like killing because I am good at it, like I said, because it makes me feel.. _useful_. But now I know that I can be good at other things." She chances a glance at Eve from her periphery, and the older woman understands what she's saying.

The blonde is realizing that she can be just as good at creating as she is destroying. Loving, instead of demolishing. Giving, instead of taking.

Eve leans forward, kissing the area under her eye to let her know, _Yes, you can be anything you want_. When she pulls back, she allows another question that she's been avoiding to escape her lips - one that she didn't ask before because she didn't want to know the answer, she didn't want to accept the reality of their situation.

"Do _you_ think you're a psychopath?"

Oksana's eyes widen a bit at this - not in shock, but simply because she just did not seem to be expecting it - before readjusting, laying on her back in the grass, crossing her arms under her head as she contemplates.

"I do not think about it often. But yes, Eve, I do not think many people can drag a knife through someone's insides and then go out to lunch afterwards." She smirks a bit at that - and Eve realizes she is not peppering humor in to detract from the question, but rather because it is the only way to deal with heaviness of what they are talking about it. "But psychopathy.. it is a scale, like anything else." The blonde lets her eyes return to the clouds, at that - her smile fading back into a straight line.

Eve knows - figures she knows everything there is to know about psychopaths without actively being one. She delved into a level of research that was both extensive and unhealthy after meeting Oksana.

"You don't think about it, though?" Eve asks, curiously.

"Sometimes. Not often, because it does not matter. If I behave in a certain way, and I stop to consider whether it is.. _psychopathic_ , does that change the course of my behavior? No." Her eyebrows knit together momentarily, trying to put her finger on something. "There is an English saying for this. If a tree falls down.." She trails off, trying to recollect, and Eve allows herself a small smile at the frustration playing out around the blonde's eyes.

"and nobody is around to hear it, does it still make a noise?" Eve finishes for her, and Oksana lets out an appreciative hum. Eve continues. It is a week of honesty, after all, and she intends to allow herself that. "But how did you feel, when they told you were a psychopath?"

Oksana shrugs. "Unaffected, I guess. I was expecting it. The diagnosis." Her eyes narrow a bit, as she searches within herself to answer Eve's question to the whatever extent she can offer. "It did not start to bother me until they were making it a point to remind me every week. Jerome would close out each session with session with these reminders. That I am a psychopath, a cold-blooded killer, a machine." Oksana's eyes glints as she relays the words, and Eve assumes this person would relay them in a style that was complimentary. Encouraging. Eve has heard the name before, and assumes he must be somebody associated with the Twelve. Oksana confirms this, when she adds, "Terrible therapist. But I was not paying for it, so." She adds, with a shrug.

"God, that's.." Eve's stomach feels sour with disgust, for thinking about the blonde being put into that position again and again, and she wishes she could find a word more apt than, " _terrible_."

Oksana shrugs again. "Maybe, but like I said, it did not affect me much, at the time. If anything, it just felt a bit too.. kitschy. Very _American Psycho,_ you know? I think he got off on it.. feeling like he was a part of something evil." Oksana rolls her eyes, and she hesitates for a moment - and Eve wonders what it is the blonde is contemplating saying.

A couple beats of silence pass between the two.

"It wasn't until I met with Helene that I started to reconsider.. well, everything. She called me a _beautiful monster_ ," Oksana recounts the sentiment with a French accent, laughing at the words, but Eve notices the pained look in her eyes as she avoids making eye contact with the older woman, "and well, I did not like that."

It clicks into place in Eve's head.

_Do you think I'm a monster?_

Eve fantasizes, once again, about ripping open the French woman's throat with her bare hands.

Oksana's voice brings her back to reality when she continues, "It is an interesting way to condition a person. Effective. Even if Jerome's approach was.. tacky, I still heard those words. I still registered them." Oksana bites her lip, and Eve can see the strain in her irises - and the older woman wonders if she could find Jerome's address, too - what his neck looks like. Oksana turns to look at Eve, her eyes open and swimming with emotion, "If you tell somebody they are something enough times, they will begin to act accordingly. So, that is what I mean. If a tree falls down and nobody is around to hear it, of course it still makes a sound. Everybody knows that. But more people should spend time questioning what made the tree fall down in the first place."

Oksana finishes, and her body looks like it is trying to release and cling to something all at the same time - some type of tension, that the blonde is trying her bet to unwind and untie, but her fingers fumble at how tightly wound the knot is.

Eve reaches out to rest a hand on the younger woman's cheek - thumb brushing at the skin, in an attempt to rub out any worry residing underneath it - and she whispers, quietly, to Oksana.

"Just because you have a monster, does not mean you are one." Eve redirects her words in an attempt to remind the younger woman of the conversation they shared on the bridge. "We all have them."

Oksana relaxes into Eve's touch, disbelief in her eyes - maybe more at the fact that the older woman is still at her side, willingly, rather than in what Eve is saying. "I am realizing that."

Eve smiles at her, reassuringly, and Oksana just stares back - eyes lit with a cocktail of love, curiosity, and understanding. "And what about your monster? Where does it fall on the psychopathy scale?"

The question drain's air from Eve's lungs - but it really shouldn't. It is something that has been lingering, unspoken and present, ever since the two of them first came into contact. Long before that, Eve thinks, but it wasn't fully awoken until she met Oksana. Unlike the blonde though, Eve has thought about it many times - laying away, and googling: _if I am worried about being a pscyhopath, does that mean I am not one?_ and allowing the first comment on a Reddit thread to quell her worries, convince her that all of the research she has done into the depths of psychopathy does not matter if a stranger on the internet says she's fine.

"I don't know." Eve admits, with an exhale. "But I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

"No." Oksana agree's, shaking her head softly against Eve's palm. "You are just Eve."

And Eve laughs at that, loudly and genuinely - it elicits a big grin from the younger woman who just looks on amused, but Eve can't help it. Can't help the way her heart curls around the words, hugging them. Can't help the gratitude she holds for the younger woman making even the most convaluted thing seem so simple.

She kisses her for it. Presses a thousand _thank you's_ and _I love you's_ into the blonde's lip with the exchange. Oksana accepts them, hungrily.

When the kiss breaks, Oksana is looking at Eve - intensely enough to catch the older woman off guard. The younger woman props herself up on her elbow so that they are at equal eye level.

"What does matter, Eve," Oksana begins, resolutely, "is how you act upon those thoughts. It is one thing if you fantasize about ripping Helene's neck open, that is fine, but.. it is another thing if you actually plan to do so." Oksana quirks a threatening eyebrow, and Eve shrinks under the weight of it. "I am not stupid, Eve. I know you are up to something. You have an admirable habit of never doing what you're told."

Eve swallows, shrinks down a bit further until she's practically laying on her back in the grass, but she doesn't respond.

Oksana sighs, rolling her eyes, before deflating a bit. "Listen, I am not going to tell you what you can and can't do. You are your own person. But I need to you to promise me that you are not going to get too close, okay?"

Eve's silence hangs in the air, and Oksana presses further.

"I promised you that I would come back, and I need you to promise me that you will not put yourself in danger." Oksana's resolve fades a bit; is replaced by pleading. "I will not be able to focus if I know there is a chance you could get hurt, and you know what it looks like when I am not focused." Eve does - the thought terr1ifies her. "So I am not asking you tell me whatever plan you are.. _hatching up_ ; in fact, I prefer not to know. But I am asking you to promise me you will not put yourself in danger."

Eve silence stretches on, considering her words heavily. She's not interested in lying to Oksana anymore, no matter how big or small - and she's definitely not interested in being the reason the blonde can't maintain focus taking on the riskiest target of her life.

So, when the blonde continues to burn holes into her eyes unabashedly, Eve nods.

She agrees.

"I promise that I won't get too close." Eve responds assuredly, but it's not good enough for the assasin who is looking at her with eyes that communicate an _And?_ Eve rolls her eyes, relenting. "I promise that I won't put myself in danger - _purposely_." She enunciates the word, because the promise is useless, otherwise. After all, who's to say they aren't in danger in this current moment?

Oksana accepts it, giving Eve a satisfied nod, before standing to her feet and brushing the grass off of her pants. She holds an an outstretched palm to the older woman, which she accepts - and they begin to walk back to the house, hand-in-hand.

It's nice - walking together, instead of walking away from one another. Eve doesn't know whether she'll ever be able to ignore the feeling of wholeness it produces in her - a complete contrast to the crater in her stomach with each step they took away from one another on the bridge.

Which reminds the older woman, she has been wanting to ask Oksana another question - one that's been on the tip of her tongue since they embraced one another in the kitchen.

"When did you realize?" Eve asks, causing Oksana to turn and look at her as they walk. "That you loved me?"

"Mm," Oksana begins, squeezing Eve's hands in the process, and Eve takes that as a sign that this is a question she is actually happy to answer. "The bridge. When you asked me to make it stop, and I wanted to help you. That is when I realized, for sure."

Eve's eyebrows raise a bit, at that. But she supposes she isn't entirely surprised, but still.. _surprised_.

It is a hard line to draw - where their relationship bled from romantic obsession to actually falling in love. Eve figures it must have been the bridge for her too, when the feeling solidified, but it was when they were dancing that she accepted it for what it was. But when she _recognized_ it, well.. Eve realized it a lot earlier.

"Really?" Eve asks, genuinely.

"Yes." Oksana asserts, nudging Eve's shoulders with her own. "I realized that I would have done anything to help you feel.. _free_ , in that moment. I have never felt that way before."

Eve's eyebrows raise a little bit further, and she's about to ask _Even with Anna?_ but Oksana reads her mind, and answers her before she has to.

"I would have done anything Anna wanted. I would have pulled out each one of my teeth, one by one, if she asked me to. If I thought that'd make her stay with me." Eve shudders at the admittance, and Oksana brushes her thumb over her knuckles. "Mm, on the bridge - I realized that I would do anything so long as it meant you were able to be happy. Even if that did not include me." She pauses for a beat, looking at their conjoined hands, before glancing at Eve with a warmth in her eyes that Eve wants to capture - wants to grab, and just take it all in. "That is love, yes?"

"Yes, I think so." Eve whispers.

"I know." The blonde replies, her smile only stretching further across her lips, the smile of a person who has finally figured it out. She turns to open the door to the farmhouse, allowing Eve to enter first and trailing behind her. "So, are we done with the 20 Questions? I am going to take a bath, if you care to join me. I would like to wash your hair." 

Eve rolls her eyes at the dreamy look that washes over the blonde's eyes as she mentions Eve's hair - and the older woman wonders if there will ever come a time where the younger woman won't be so enamored by the literal fucking follicles on her head. The thought makes her stomach churn, but she just hopes the unimpressed expression in her eyes does something to mask the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"For now." She replies, allowing their afternoon of questions to come to a contented close, before moving to unbutton her shirt. Oksana smiles at the movement, before retreating into the bathroom to draw the bath.

* * *

It happens for a fourth time when they're eating dinner, and Eve really should have expected it given the way their day has gone this far. She is beginning to develop whiplash, for real this time.

They're sitting next to one another, at the dining room table - knees knocking together every so often - laughing into their wine glasses as Oksana is recounting some story about a dung-throwing contest in Russia when the noise silences the air. Sharpens it.

It's the sound of a car traversing down the dirt-road towards the farmhouse, headlights flashing briefly into the windows and then gone - an indicator that the car pulled into the duvet of the driveway that belongs to Abban's house.

They stare at each other for a moment, considering what the potential outcomes could be. Abban is home - he always is at this hour, and the man does not seem the type to bring around late-night visitors. At least from what they've seen.

Then Oksana's chair is screeching backwards as she's pushing herself into a standing position, once again retrieving the gun from the couch and tucking it into her waistband. She's heading for the door before Eve has even stood up.

"Wait!" Eve commands.

"Stay here, Eve." Oksana asserts, hand on the doorknob, but she backtracks and softens her tone at the look of the older woman's narrowed eyes. "Please. I am just going to check it out."

"Fine." Eve relents, crossing her arms. "Just.. be careful."

"Always," Oksana obeys, before slipping out the door.

Eve moves to watch from the window and watches as the blonde treks towards Abban's house - treks until she slips into the darkness, and Eve can't see her anymore.

Eve buries her hands in her hair, letting out an exasperated groan, before sitting back down in her seat and taking a larger-than-necessary gulp of red wine.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Eve is standing up to retrieve a weapon of her own - kitchen knife, she decides - before Oksana is opening the door, and sliding through. Uninjured, and seemingly, unconcerned. She shrugs, pulling the gun out of her waistband and setting it on the couch, before coming to stand in front of Eve - hands on her waist.

"So?" Eve asks, eyebrows raised, as she waits.

"It seems that even Abban has the need for the occasional late-night visitor." Oksana relays, with a cocked eyebrow.

Eve's eyebrows knit together in confusion, then unknit with realization. "You mean?"

Oksana nods, biting on her lip to whatever smirk is beginning to form. "Yes, some older lady. Must have come from a nearby farm. She was wearing the whole.." Oksana gestures to her body in a way that Eve assumes is supposed to represent overalls. " _giddup_."

"Oh." Eve replies, allows herself to exhale as concern leaves her body. "Well, how do you know they..?" Eve cuts herself off, mouth falling open in a manner of disgust. "Oh my god, you _watched_!"

Oksana steps forward, eyes wide as she begins to defend herself. "I had to! To make sure that she was not one of the Twelve! I left as soon as they got into bed!" Oksana crosses her arms, her eyebrows furrowing. "God, Eve, I am not a pervert. You should know, better than anybody, that old straight people having sex is not my preferred method of arousal."

Eve deflates a bit, figures she could counter with some quip about Oksana finding fulfillment from watching her fuck Niko from behind a window - she's sure that qualifies as two old straight(?) people having sex - but she doesn't have the energy. She's just happy that they're not in any eminent danger. 

She steps forward, resting a hand on the blonde's upper arm. "Well, I'm glad that Abban has not been compromised by the Twelve, but I can't say I'm surprised." Eve supplies, letting her arm fall away from the younger woman. "That man seems to be completely loyal to you."

Oksana's eyes trail away from Eve's, fix on the ground near her feet. "Yes, well, Konstantin seemed that way too."

Eve figures it's her way of saying _you can't trust anybody,_ but she doesn't miss the way Oksana's voice hushes around the sound of his name. There is some type of pain, there - and Eve wonders if Konstantin is to Oksana as Bill was to her. Maybe it was the closest thing she had.

"Shall we?" Eve offers gently, gesturing to their half-full plates of food still taking up residency on the table.

"I can not say my appetite is in tact after getting a glimpse of Abban's ass," Oksana relays, and Eve hides her laugh, "but I will try."

She doesn't have to try hard, Eve notes, when Oksana clears her plate shortly after they sit down.

The air has changed - as it always does, after their bubble gets popped by some outside force that had no business showing its nose.

It's tiring, Eve thinks, how they work effortlessly to create a vicinity of safety and peace amongst the chaos, time and time again - just for something to come along and shatter it, in a moment's notice.

The older woman wonders, as she sips her wine, if it will always be some variation of this. Jumping from location to location, working to create a sense of safety in said location, just for it to be constantly threatened. Eve figures she has to entertain a future where they have an actual shot of stability, if only for her own sanity. And if that future doesn't exist, so be it. She has long since let go of the idea of creating a _normal_ life for herself, whatever that means.

Eve can let it go - acknowledging it as a disturbance to their otherwise lovely evening - but Oksana can not. Eve can tell from the tenseness of her shoulders, the panic that still lingers at the corners of her eyes, the fidgety nature with which she clasps the stem of her wine glass.

They finish their meal quietly, and Oksana offers to do the dishes since Eve had taken care of the mess this morning. Eve nods, figuring the blonde may need some time to recollect herself, and just sits at the table - staring at the reflection in her wine glass.

It is these moments that will test them the most, Eve realizes. Whenever their is tension between them, whether it be because of some unspoken sentiment or disagreement, they have the power to quell it. It is in their control. But when the tension is caused by an outside force, one they have no grasp on, it is much harder to quell. It is completely out of their control.

What is in their control is how they accept it, and how they deal with it together. So Eve waits.

* * *

Oksana finishes the dishes, and they retreat back into the bedroom. Eve moves to change into more comfortable clothes, and Oksana makes a show of watching - collapsing onto her back on the sheets, arms crossed behind her head as she diligently watches Eve pull her shirt over her head.

Eve quirks an eyebrow, after removing her shirt. "Enjoying the show?" She asks, before throwing her shirt at Oksana's face.

The blonde huffs, pawing it away. "I _was_. Rude, Eve."

The younger woman pushes herself up on to her knees and crawls to the edge of the bed, where Eve meets her. Oksana sits on her knees, placing a kiss to the center of Eve's chest, and the older woman just wraps her arms around her, letting her chin rest on Oksana's hairline.

"Do you want to talk about it? You got.. _weird_ , after dinner."

Oksana lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing away from Eve's body and back onto her haunches, so that she can meet the woman's eyes. "It is called 20 Questions for a reason, Eve. I am sure you have asked me more than forty today."

Eve raises her eyebrows, stepping into her pajama bottoms, before taking a seat next to the younger woman at the foot of the bed. She has to look up, as Oksana is slightly taller than her, sitting on her haunches. "It is a question. That means you have the option to answer, or not answer it. Whatever you want." Eve shrugs, making clear that is it an invitation - not a demand. "I just noticed you were in a.. _tizzy_ , so."

Oksana's eyes jump to her hairline at this, and her lips hang in an open-mouthed smirk. " _Tizzy_?" She sounds the word out, in disbelief. "What does this mean?"

Eve narrows her eyes, fights against the urge to roll them as she feels she's met her quota of eye rolls for the day, and responds, "Agitated. Distracted. _Off_."

Oksana just laughs at that, eyebrows till raised. " _Tizzy_. God, that is the stupidest word I have ever heard." She shakes her head gently, relenting; a small smirk still playing at her lips, "Yes. I am in a _tizzy_."

Eve raises her eyebrows, allowing the younger woman an opportunity to continue if she so desires, and she takes it as a sign of victory when Oksana readjusts to sit back on her hands, criss-crossing her legs to get more comfortable.

"If it was the Twelve tonight, they would be here for me. Not you. Or maybe they would be here for you, because of me. It is hard to stomach." She offers, her eyes fixed on the wall in front of them, but Eve just continues to stare at her directly.

God, it's the sound of a broken record that's been spinning for days, but it's true. They can talk about it a thousand times, Eve can reassure her a thousand more, but it doesn't do anything to reduce the truth of what Carolyn said.

Eve inhales, before nodding. "I understand-"

Oksana cuts her off, which results in a raised eyebrow from Eve, because the blonde never does that - not now. She tends to listen to Eve patiently and diligently - a trait that Eve has admired, and one that she desperately needs to work on herself. But Oksana interjects, and her eyes shoot to meet Eve's, "No. You can not."

"Excuse me?"

Oksana sighs. "Do not get in a.. _tizzy_ , Eve." She gestures her hands in some way that Eve assumes to mean _tizzy_? "I did not mean it like that." She pauses, obviously trying to choose her next words more carefully, and Eve decides to tone down whatever flames were threatening to spark. "You can not fully understand, because you are not in my position. We are going through the same thing, yes. But our positions are very different. If the Twelve hurts you, it will because they are trying to get to me."

"Narcissist, much?" Eve interjects, tries to lighten the mood, and fails.

"They have no other reason." Oksana continues, seriously." If the roles were reversed, I think that it would be troublesome for you to stomach as well. But that is the not the case. It is hard to think about."

"So, don't think about it." Eve responds, instantaneously and uselessly. _God_ , she doesn't know if it's the emotional day they've had, or the fact that everything Oksana is saying is true - but her ability to comfort the other woman is seriously lacking right now. She tries to recover. "It is useless, I mean. I told you, I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, no matter what."

Oksana bites her lip, and stays silent - and it kills Eve. She tries again,

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Oksana exhales, closing her eyes, before letting them reopen and offering Eve a small smile. She reaches a spread hand across the sheets, and Eve clasps it immediately - closing her hand around the younger woman's fingers.

"I think that I would just like to rest."

Eve nods, pulling on their intertwined hands to bring the blonde closer to her, and she kisses her - mustering up whatever reassurance she has left in her body to give the blonde the confidence she feels in her heart.

She feels the younger woman sigh against her lips - and Eve smiles in response. She moves to straddle the blonde, who quirks an eyebrow at her, which Eve shoots down. "Don't get any ideas, _pervert_." She smiles as she releases the word - and moves to pull Oksana's shirt over her head.

She presses a kiss to her now-bare shoulder, and Oksana hums at the contact, slumping a bit - and Eve notices the way her body seems less tense than it was even mere moments ago. She pushes the blonde onto her back, and kisses to the side of her bellybutton, before tugging her pants down her legs. She peppers kisses down the younger woman's thighs as she does so, and Oksana just watches - quietly.

It's inexplicably intimate. Eve takes her time derobing the woman, and delicately pressing kisses into every inch of flesh she can manage, before she crawls back up Oksana and kisses her once more on the lips - deeply, and tenderly. And when she allows their lips to part, she gets up to turn off the light, before crawling into bed behind the younger woman and pushes her nose into her neck, wrapping her arm around her middle.

The air between them is fuzzy with an unspoken intimacy - and Eve can feel Oksana's heart beating against her chest, as rapidly as hers, as if the two muscles are trying to communciate with another.

"You are a tease, Eve." Oksana allows a breathless whisper to penetrate the stillness of the dark room, but she only scoots further back into Eve's body, "I thought you were about to fuck my brains out."

Eve laughs quietly into the smoothness of Oksana's neck, clinging tighter, "In the morning. You need to rest."

Oksana stills at that, half-turning to cast a glance over her shoulder at the older woman, "In the morning?" She repeats, her voice an incredulous whisper. "Did you just schedule a time to have sex with me?" She huffs, before falling back into her pillow, and Eve doesn't miss the way she just pulls the older woman's arm tighter around her. "Is that what being married is like?"

"Yes." Eve replies, honestly and immediately - and oh, so happy that that is not her life anymore. She didn't know much more scheduled missionary she could take. "Good thing we aren't."

"Yes," Oksana echoes, with a gentle nod. "Good thing." And her voice almost sounds solemn, but Eve figures that the tiredness in her bones is starting to translate to her brain and she's just making things up at this point.

Eve tries to fight it - tries to stay conscious and tell herself that she won't fall asleep until Oksana does, until she knows the younger woman has entered into a place of peace and quiet.

She loses. Or her body wins. She's trying to fight the weight that has become her eyelids when she can tell from the movements of Oksana's body that the younger woman is still fully awake, but Eve - in a moment of weakness - allows her eyes to shut, and falls into a deep slumber.

* * *

When Eve wakes up, she first notices the clock on the bedside table.

_2:13 A.M._

The second things she notices is that she's alone.

She sits up, panic seeping into every one of her pores - when she realizes the blonde's clothes are also gone from the room, and realization starts to set in.

She throws the blankets away from her, and gets out of bed - moving slowly and robotically - and treks a quiet path to the living room, where she finds some version of what she was expecting.

Oksana's backpack is gone.

Eve doesn't react - not immediately.

She doesn't spring out the door, full speed ahead.

She doesn't break down into tears.

She just stands there, for a moment longer, before turning and heading back into the bedroom.

She flicks on the light, before sitting in her previous spot, on the unmade bed.

She could spiral, easily - in a thousand different directions, if she really wanted to.

But, she doesn't. She grounds herself.

She thinks of the same thing that she did the night before, when she committed the very same act. She thinks of Oksana's admittance, as they sat on the bench, while the sun was setting.

_We belong together. You feel it too, no?_

It's a truth - one that stands the test of time, and one that has overcome whatever obstacles that have tried to desperately to separate them in the past. And last night, that obstacle that almost had Eve jumping on the first bus back to London, was overcame - she came back.

And so, she waits. Waits for Oksana to do the same. To come back.

The string stretches, sure, but it doesn't break.

Eve hears the front door opening, and she allows a glance at the clock on the bedside table.

_2:43 A.M._

30 minutes.

It could have been 30 seconds, or 30 years - Eve would have believed either. It took every ounce of her willpower to stay calm - to trust in this, to trust in them, to trust in truth. And it paid off.

She is sitting on the bed, calmly, when Oksana reappears in the doorframe. Her backpack is slung over her shoulder, and her face is twisted in a combination that is equal parts remorse and shock. Perhaps to an extent the older woman has never seen before. She wonders if this is what Oksana's face looked like after she walked away from her bleeding body in Rome.

Oksana's mouth opens, sputtering, and Eve can see the wetness of her eyes glinting in the soft glow of the lamp.

"Eve, I am so-" It's Eve's turn to interrupt. She does so, gladly. They have already exchanged one heartbreaking apology today - or _yesterday_ , she guesses - and they do not need to do another one.

"Don't." Eve asserts, gently - allowing her tone to indicate that she is not mad, or upset, or frustrated, or anything but understanding.

Oksana was right, when she said Eve could not fully understand the position she was in - but leaving, in hopes of ensuring the other person's safety, that _is_ something she can understand.

The blonde stands frozen in the doorway, backpack falling off her arm and hitting the ground with a gentle thud, and Eve would move to wipe away the tears falling freely from her eyes - but Oksana is looking more deer-like than anything, and Eve would be damned before she sends the woman running by moving a little too quickly.

She slowly lays down onto her side, peeling the blanket back as invitation - just as the blonde did for her, the night before - and Oksana finally takes a disjointed step out of the doorframe.

She strips her jacket, wiping erratically at her falling tears as she does so, before kicking off her shoes and curling onto her side beside Eve, facing her, and so Eve lowers herself so they are eye-to-eye - mirroring the same position they took the first time they laid down together.

The older woman reaches out a hand, cupping the blonde's cheek, and brushes strokes over her cheekbone - lovingly, and comforting.

"Did you leave?"

The blonde sniffles, but offers a soft, "No."

"Then you don't need to apologize."

Eve is staring at her earnestly, and the blonde is returning her gaze - wide-eyed, and bewildered.

"I did the same thing last night. Well, I entertained the thought of it." Eve relays, before lifting her head up to look at the discarded backpack laying on the ground, before returning her gaze to Oksana. She cocks an eyebrow before adding, "I mean, I didn't pack a god-damn bag, but, still." She offers, in jest, and feels relief wash through her chest when Oksana lets out a watery chuckle at that.

"I wouldn't." Oksana offers, quietly, wiping her eye again. "I couldn't."

Eve gives a small reassuring smile at that, all-too-understanding of the feeling that only they could know, so she replies, "Me too."

Oksana leans forward, and kisses Eve passionately - it's messy, all chapped lips and tears, but Eve returns it equally as passionately.

The younger woman breaks the kiss, panting quietly against Eve's lips before whispering, "I love you."

"I love you too." Eve manages before crashing their lips back together, forcing Oksana onto her back, and knotting her hands in the blonde's hair in the process. She feels Oksana groan into her mouth, and Eve feels a fire in her belly - the flames taller than ever before, begging to be fueled, and her breathing picks up accordingly.

She breaks the kiss, looking down into Oksana's eyes and watches as the color fades from hazel to black, so she asks, "Are you tired?"

"No."

Eve grins at that, nodding towards the clock, "Well. It is technically morning."

Oksana just rolls her eyes, and pulls Eve back down onto her. Their lips are tangled in a messy, wet, exchange of tongues, and Eve can't help but smile.

And later that morning, hours later - when the sun is rising - they do fall asleep, peacefully and easily, knowing that there is no place else they could possibly be. And maybe, they both just had to entertain the idea of leaving to know, undeniably, that they belong together.

* * *

The first thing Eve learns on their second-to-last day together is that Oksana has developed some Pavlovian response to Eve tying her hair up.

It's completely second nature to the older woman - she ties her hair up to make coffee, when she works at her computer, when she eats, when she goes down on Oksana.

The first couple times that they had sex, and Eve went down on the younger woman - the blonde had protested, breathy pleads of _No, Eve, wear it down_ and so she did, eager to please.

But now that they have slept together several times, going down on Oksana is a skill that Eve wants to hone - perfect - and she can't focus completely when her curls are constantly invading her space, slipping into her mouth, and sticking to the sweat on her shoulders. So she has started to put her hair up, and Oksana has stopped protesting.

It happens when Oksana returns from her run - insisting on going for a longer one today, because _I must be in top shape, Eve_ \- and she is leaning against the frame of the couch, panting.

They have to go to the grocery store again today, as they have completely drained their supplies, which means the younger woman will want to shower beforehand - leaving Eve with an allotted amount of time to do.. whatever.

She eyes the laptop Carolyn had given her only a few days ago, and sure, she knows that there's nothing on it aside from the software that will remain useless until Helene is bugged, but it can't hurt to look just one more time.

Eve grabs the laptop, sitting on the couch while Oksana is still panting behind her, and opens it - tying her hair up in the process.

As soon as she lets her hand fall away from her now-satsifactory bun, she starts clicking through the files on the computer, yet again, but then the laptop is being ripped off her lap, thrown onto the couch cushion beside them, which Eve responds to with a,

"Hey! What the hell!"

But then the younger woman is straddling her, still sweaty and musky from her run, and Eve just knits her eyebrows together in confusion until she looks up to meet Oksana's gaze.

Her eyes are completely black - like no hazel in sight, black - and her breathing is still erratic, which Eve is now unsure is from the run or.. whatever the _fuck_ is happening inside the blonde's body currently.

"Shower with me."

Eve is still looking up at her, confusedly, but she brings her hands to rest on the woman's thighs - feels whatever energy the blonde is radiating transfer to her skin, seep into her pores, cause her breathing to pick up too.

"I.. already showered."

Oksana cocks an eyebrow, obviously not used to people dismissing her advances for spontaneous sex, and Eve is certainly not doing that - but she's just trying to catch up to whatever the hell is going on in the current moment.

"I would like it if you went down on me."

Eve's breath catches at that - and whatever hesitation her body was experiencing in regards to how to proceed in the current circumstances, decimates. She reaches over slowly, grabbing the laptop and dropping it on the floor, before flipping them so that Oksana is on her back on the couch, and Eve is on top of her - hands on either side of her head. When a hand travels to play with the drawstring of the blonde's joggers, she knits her eyebrows together and it is a contrasting expression - eyes heavy with lust, but confusion playing at the corners of them. It makes Eve wet.

"Eve, I just went on a five-mile run. I am sweaty, in places no person ever should be." She breathes out, but Eve doesn't miss the way her breath hitches when the older woman trails a teasing finger down the inner side of Oksana's clothed thigh. "Musky." She offers, again.

Something about that - something about Oksana's overworked body, her baby hairs held down by the sweat on her forehead, her heavy breathing - does something to Eve.

The older woman just raises an eyebrow, maintaining direct eye contact with the younger woman, as she slips a hand below the waistband of the blonde's joggers, and Oksana's eyes flutter uncontrollably.

"You are dirty, Eve Polastri." She asserts, quietly, and Eve lets her fingers trail over the already-slick folds, before inserting a finger. 

"You love it," Eve whispers back, smiling darkly, before inserting another.

* * *

They are driving to the grocery store - Oksana, bathed and chipper, and Eve, satisfied but still curious, as she looks at the younger woman from the passenger seat.

"What was that about?" Eve prods, her voice husky with inquisitve approval, as she watches Oksana shift gears effortlessly. It makes Eve want to do the same - it would be a good thing to master.

She figured that if she had time to distract herself, if she was planning on staying put while Oksana went to London, it would be the perfect time to teach herself. But that is not the case.

Oksana's voice brings her back to the current question at hand, and the blonde just gazes through the windshield as she responds, "I think." She starts, and stops. Restarts. "I think that it was because you put your hair up."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"Oh." Eve voices, verbally this time. She hestitates, allowing her hand to come up to touch the messy bun plopped on the top of her head. "So.. should I wear it up, or down?"

Eve is curious which will allow them a better chance of acquiring groceries without Oksana pinning her against the cereal boxes in an open aisle, and while Eve is learning many new things about her sexuality, she's not quite sure she's ready to ride the exhibitionist train yet.

Oksana lets a beat pass, before answering. And Eve can see her eyebrows furrow, as she keeps her gaze on the winding road in front of them. "I do not know. I am very confused."

Eve laughs at that, turning her gaze to look out the passenger side window to hide the desire she feels outlining her irises. Oksana at her mercy.

This will be fun.

* * *

It doesn't stay fun for long.

The second thing Eve learns on their seventh day of cohabitation has very little to do with either of them, and more to do with the universe as a whole.

Time is never a guarantee.

When they return home and park the car, Abban is waiting for them on the porch.

That familiar feeling comes - the silent, exchanged glance - but they have gotten better at mastering it now, working through it. They sit for a moment, before jumping out of the car.

Eve trails behind Oksana, arms crossed around her chest, as Abban steps down from the porch to meet them.

"Rory, Maisie," he addresses them with a warm smile, tipping his head in the process.

Eve returns it, and Oksana jumps straight in, Scottish accent rounding out her words, "Oh, Abban, do not tell me my aunt has returned to trouble you again."

He gives her a sheepish look, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Afraid so, kid. Well.. not physically," he corrects, "she's not here, but she phoned this morning. Says she'll need you on the first train to London tomorrow."

Eve watches as Oksana's shoulders deflate a bit, and she's sure hers do the same, equal combination relief.. and devastation. Relief that it is not worse news, and devastation that their already limited time together has been drastically reduced.

The blonde recovers first, exhaling deeply as she says, "Thanks for the heads up, Abban. Again, I'm sorry for all the trouble."

The man shakes his head, waving his hands in front of him, "Oh, no. None of that. It's no sweat off my back. I like having the two of ye around," he turns his gaze to Eve, adding, "and of course you're still welcome to stay as long as you like, Rory."

Eve gives him a sincere smile, and manages the best Scottish accent she can to respond.

"Thank you, Abban."

His eyes crinkle around the corners, and he steps forward to put his hands on Oksana's shoulders. The blonde doesn't recoil this time. "Take care of yerself, kid. I'll see you in a few days, yeh?"

Oksana smiles, gives him a reassuring nod, "So long as my Aunt doesn't kill me, you can count on it."

He laughs at that, and then he gives them a wave, before stuffing his hands into his overall pockets and heading back towards his house.

It's not until they finish unloading the groceries, and are sat on the couch, that Eve notices the air is different from how it usually is after their peace is disrupted - but not in a bad way.

It's not tense; it's doesn't feel like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room - it feels.. okay. Well, as okay as it can be.

Eve is unsure if it's because it has happened enough times that they have figured out how to work around it, together, or because the fact that they have less than 24 hours together is forcing them into a place where it has to be okay, for now, as to not waste their remaining hours together in misery.

They're sitting on the couch, criss-cross and facing one another, and Eve reaches a hand out to intertwine their fingers, resting their conjoined hands on Oksana's thigh.

"So," Eve asks, "5 AM?"

Oksana nods, confirming, and Eve can't help her eyes trailing a hesitant path to the clock.

_3:03 P.M._

She sighs, but returns her gaze back to the blonde, and musters up the most reassuring smile she can manage.

"And you're not going to see Carolyn at all, before hand?" Eve asks, desperate to understand the situation as fully as possible, even though she was present for the entire situation.

"No, it is too.. risky," Oksana relays, "Carolyn knows that. That is why she did not tell me to call her when I get in, or anything of the sort. It's safe to assume Helene will be monitoring her closely leading up to their dinner. She just has to trust that I will be there." Oksana shrugs. "The same way that you will be not be in contact with Carolyn, if something were to happen. We are all equally in the dark, but it is the safest way."

It's a funny word to use in this scenario. Trust. When it something that is so lacking in their relationship with the British woman.

"And you will not be able to tune in until she is bugged?" Oksana asks, curiously. The blonde has never had a need to focus on the more technical side of spy stuff - only the physical aspect.

Eve nods.

"The software is already installed on the laptop - but if I were to pull it up right now, it'd be just be a blank screen. It won't start registering coordinates until the bug has been activated, and placed on the target. The bug corresponds with the microphone - that is how the software is linked. So when the coordinates start coming in, I will be able to activate your microphone and we will be.. good to go." Eve explains, and if it were any other situation - she would be excited to get back to work, but she doesn't feel any ounce of it - not when Oksana is being put in harm's way. Adrenaline clouds her thoughts, and not the good kind.

Oksana quirks an eyebrow at that; a smirk pulling at the corner of her lip. "God, you are _sexy_ when you talk spy stuff."

Eve laughs, leaning forward to capture Oksana's lips in a chaste kiss, before crawling into her lap.

`"So," Eve wraps her arms around the younger woman's shoulder, before asking, "how shall we spend our remaining fourteen hours together?"

"Mm," the blonde bobs her head as if she's considering, but Eve can tell from the smirk on her lips that she knows the answer, "I have a couple of ideas."

* * *

They spend the most of the day in bed, only leaving to use the bathroom or eat something, but they try not to spend too much time, well, not touching.

Eve maintains a perfect awareness of the clock - and each minute that passes feels like a minute off of her life. That is exactly what it is, after all - but she's never been so conscious of it.

_8:13 P.M._

They are wrapped up, sheets pooled around their waist, relishing in gentle warmth of a post-coital haze. Oksana is on her back, and Eve is half-draped over her, while the younger woman trails her fingers up and down the older woman's spine.

"If you could go anywhere, where would it be?" Oksana asks, quietly.

Eve chuckles a bit at that, her breath tickling the side of younger woman's neck, "I think we're a little bit past first-date questions."

She feels Oksana huff, pinching Eve's hip playfully, which earns her a gentle smack from the older woman. "Oh, so heart-wrenching questions about my trauma-ridden past are fine, Eve, but hopeful questions about the future are off limits. Noted."

"Hopeful?" Eve lifts her head to cast a glance at Oksana's profile, her heart sinking at the blonde's choice of word. She knows she's being careful, realistic - but the older woman does not need that right now. What she needs is confidence, _optimism_ \- even if it's hard to muster. "So that's what you're asking, then? Where I want to go after you finish the job?"

Oksana hesitates, before giving a gentle nod - but it's small.

"Oksana." Eve asserts her name quietly, beckoning the younger woman to meet her eyes. "I know that you said you don't want to make promises you can't keep, but you are going to come back to me, okay?" She pauses, before adding. "And even if you didn't, in some fucked-up fantasy, I would not hold it over your head. But that's not going to happen. It's okay to plan for a future that we are going to have. It's not hopeful, it's _realistic_."

Oksana licks her lips, eyes shimmering in the dim light that the lamp is casting upon them, before she nods under Eve's eyes. This time, it's assured, allowing herself a small portion of the confidence Eve is exuding.

"Okay. So where would you like to go?" She continues.

Eve considers this, propping her elbow on the pillow so she can rest her cheek in her hand. She uses her free hand to trace lazy circles around the blonde's chest.

"Hmm.. somewhere warm, I think. It's been nice here - the quiet.. but I think that we both know we'd lose our minds, if we were too far away from the city. Maybe somewhere that allows for a little bit of both?" Eve's eyes wander as she verbally processes the fantasy - she imagines somewhere coastal, where they could feel the sun on their skin - bordering a city, but slightly tucked away too. Simultaneously exposed and hidden. They seem to have a knack for that, after all.

Oksana's eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly taken aback by Eve's answer, and she puckers her lips in approval, before responding, "You have surprised me. I have to say I'm relieved." Eve cocks an eyebrow at that, and the blonde continues. "No offense, Eve, but you have a somewhat.. _eeyorey_ vibe about you. I thought you would want to go somewhere cold and gloomy - _snowy_." Her nose scrunches in disgust as she utters the word. "Don't get me wrong, I would follow you anywhere. I was just ready to sacrifice some comforts in order to do so."

Eve guffaws at that, tongue rolling over her teeth as she regards the younger woman, " _Eeyorey_?" Eve isn't sure if she's more surprised at the descriptor, or the fact that the assasin is referencing _Winnie the fucking Pooh_. "I am going to let that one slide, in favor of focusing on the fact that we are more compatible than you may think." Eve's eyes settle with realization, as she recalls the only other time the blonde had offered up a location for them to escape to, before this. "Besides, you are the one who suggested Alaska the first time!"

Oksana rolls her eyes, letting her head fall sideways on the pillow, "It was in the heat of the moment, Eve. Alaska just seemed.. far away, and miserable. Nobody wants to go there, not even the Twelve. There are _moose_ in Alaska, Eve. They are very scary."

Eve laughs at that, and Oksana giggles a kiss into the corner of her mouth as she does. And it feels hopeful, free - it feels like progress. Eve wouldn't have dare brought up Rome, out of context, even two days ago - and now, they are finding ways to laugh about it. Eve wouldn't have been able to smile, even three days ago - while she knew her time with Oksana was coming to a drastic close, but here they are - smiling at one another with stupid, toothy grins. Eve wouldn't have thought it realistic to plan for a future with the younger woman, even seven days ago - and now she can't imagine another future for herself.

Yes, it's progress - and it's something much deeper than that, too. It's a beginning.

They fall asleep shortly after that - while going down the checklist of the possible locations - _Barcelona? No, Eve, too fresh. Italy? Maybe. Rome? Ha Ha, Eve._ \- and they sleep soundly throughout the night, their bodies pressed flush together, not separating for even a moment.

* * *

When Eve wakes up, it's because Oksana is nudging her gently. She is sitting upright on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, and Eve wipes the sleep from her eyes. She glances at the clock, and the red letters taunt her, let her know that the time has finally come.

_4:05 A.M._

Eve lets out a shaky breath, before sitting up, and allowing herself to take in her surroundings. The room is lit with a grayish tint - indicative of the night coming to a close, and the sun preparing to rise - and Oksana is sat, backpack over her shoulder, looking at Eve with sad, loving eyes. Eve watches her chest rise and fall, the subtle movement of it bringing tears to the older woman's eyes, but they don't surface - no, her eyes don't even water, fully. There will be a time to cry, later. But now, she intends to use her last minutes wisely.

She crashes forward and Oksana meets her halfway, accepting her kiss with a warmth that is full of love and desire and longing and trying desperately not to feel like a goodbye. When their lips part, Eve sighs, letting her forehead fall against the blonde.

"Alright." Eve states, solemnly, getting out of bed.

She makes quick work of pulling on her clothes, brushing her teeth, and doesn't even bother with her hair. She wears it down.

"Do you have the microphone?" Eve mumbles, around the toothbrush in her mouth.

"Mhm." Oksana confirms.

When they saddle into the car, Oksana takes the passenger seat - leaving Eve to climb into the driver's, as she throws the blonde a curious glance. They have more than enough time to make it to the station - the trip is reduced drastically, by car - but Eve knows they'd get there a lot faster if Oksana was driving.

Eve fumbles with the stick shift, throwing the car into reverse, before descending the long, dirt driveway. "Remind me again why I'm driving."

Oksana smiles, "Because I need to make sure you'll get back from the station in one piece, without my guidance. You are a shit driver, Eve."

Eve throws her a deadly glance from her periphry, but doesn't counter it.. because, well, she can't. Not when it comes to manual. Eve is perfectly fine at driving an automatic, _thank you very much_ , and she's about to say so - but then she shifts into the wrong gear as they pull out of the driveway and onto the road, and takes that as a sign to hold her tongue.

The drive through the country is beautiful - devastatingly, so - and they embrace it silently. The hills of green are vibrant against the dusty twilight that is setting in around them, and birds are just beginning to sing as the first glimpse of sun peeks over the mountain. They leave the radio off, so the only sound is the subdued chirps, and the sound of Oksana's thumb as it strokes comforting circles into the fabric over Eve's jeans.

"I never got to hear your answer, you know," Oksana begins, quietly, eyes fixed on the landscape as it unfolds in front of them.

"Hm?" Eve asks, unclear about what she's talking about.

"When you first you knew you loved me."

"Ah." Eve registers, inhaling and exhaling in an effort to keep the tears at bay. She's happy to answer Oksana - she wants her to know, even if the bubble in her chest is making it hard to talk. "I don't think I accepted it until we were dancing. But I think I knew ever since I stabbed you." Oksana's hand still on her thigh, and she whips her head around at this, glancing at Eve in disbelief. It is the true definition of a role reversal - the fact that Eve knew long before Oksana did. The fact that had been pining in a much different way, ever since then. "I'm sorry it took me so long," she apologizes, softly and genuinely, "I think.. I wasted a lot of time." She feels it now, like a weight settling itself into her shoulders, the time they could have had now following behind her like a revenge-driven ghost.

"No," Oksana replies gently, her thumb once again rubbing circles against Eve's thigh, "I think we came together exactly when we were supposed to." She smiles at Eve, and it is a smile that allows Eve to understand that she is completely right. They fell into place, at the exact moment they were supposed to, that they chose to.

They pull up to the station, not long after that, and Eve pulls the truck to a stop in front of the main entrance - people are bustling in and out of the station, and there is a big red leaderboard listening all of the departure and arrival times. Oksana's train is on time - which means she should be getting into London exactly as expected, 5 PM.

The blonde unbuckles her seatbelt first, and Eve follows suit. As soon as they are free from the straps, they collide in the middle of truck bench, clinging desperately to one another in the quietness of the car. They are trying to defy every law of gravity - attempting to mold each other together, trying to convince their bodies that they don't have to act as separate entities, but it is futile. So, they just hug - for a long time.

"I love you, Eve." Oksana whispers into the crook of the older woman's neck, one hand grasping at the back of her neck, "Very much."

Eve clings tighter, tears finally welling in her eyes, as she presses her nose into Oksana's shoulder. "I love you so much."

They break apart - unwillingly, and the action is remniscent of somebody pulling magnets apart - and they stare at each other - eyes wet, and expression of emotions that language could not begin to articulate - before crashing their lips together. They kiss one another, desperately, and so firmly that it hurts, and Eve welcomes the pain - welcomes the bruise that will undeniably be forming on her lip shortly afterwards.

"You'll be okay, Oksana," Eve breathes against her lips, before cupping the blonde's cheeks and pulling their faces apart so they are looking at one another directly, "I'll see you when you get home, alright?"

Oksana nods, firmly - tears rolling down her cheeks as she does so, and Eve is grateful to see the movement outlined by a steady level of confidence. She will come home, Eve knows that, and they're both well aware that home does not mean the farmhouse - but wherever the other is.

Oksana sniffles in an attempt to pull herself together, wiping her face free of tears as she reaches for the door handle. "See you soon, baby," she smiles assuredly at Eve, and then she slips out of the car, out of Eve's reach, and into the train station.

Eve feels a sob threatening her chest - but she pushes it down, saves it for later. Instead, she lets out a deep exhale before flashing her attention the red mess of letters and numbers changing on the leaderboard. It only takes her a moment before she finds exactly what she is looking for.

_Departing: Baltimore, Arriving: London, Direct, 8:00 A.M._

Eve glances at the clock on the dashboard, _4:45 A.M_. She wipes at her eyes. That gives her enough time to drive back to the farmhouse, collect her things, and make it back in time with 15 minutes to spare, if she doesn't hit any hiccups. She throws the car into first gear, and begins her drive back to the very place she just came from. 

* * *

She arrives back at the farmhouse at _5:30 A.M_. - in one piece, which is a little miraculous, given how fast she took some of the turns on the road winding down into the country. She throws everything into her suitcase, haphazardly, and scribbles a note to leave for Abban.

_Had to leave for London after all. Thanks again for everything, and see you in a few days!_

_Rory_

_X_

_P.s. - Hope it's okay that I'm parking your car at the station! Left some cash on the table for you!_

She pulls a wad of cash out of her wallet - a couple 100's, which is probably a bit much given the fact the truck would just be sitting in the auto shop lot otherwise, but it's still rude to take somebody's car without asking - and drops it on the table before rushing out of the house, suitcase and laptop in tow.

She sticks the note to the front door, and throws herself into the driver seat of the old Chevy, praying to a God she doesn't believe in that she'll make it to London just before Carolyn sits down for dinner with Helene.

* * *

The drive goes by fast, she doesn't remember it - which is concerning, given the fact she was operating a vehicle - but she figures it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because she is in one piece, looking out the train window, as it pulls out of the station and begins its direct journey to Liverpool station. It's funny, Eve thinks, how things come full circle.

She spends the majority of the ride thinking about Oksana - she thinks about the way her hair looks like honey in the sunlight, she thinks about the way she licks her lips before she leans in to kiss Eve, she thinks about what Oksana looks like when she's happy and light, and she thinks about what Oksana looks like when she's anxious and weighted down. Eve wonders what she looks like now, as she sits on a separate train, preparing for an evening that will determine their fate. 

Eve arrives in London right at _6:05 PM._ Liverpool station is bustling, hundreds of people crowding in and out, and Eve wonders if she steps in the same places Oksana had only an hour beforehand. She wonders if there's a chance the blonde is still lingering around somewhere, flipping through a magazine, as she waits around to kill Helene. Eve doesn't waste too much thinking about it; she hales a yellow cab instead, instructing the driver to take her to the address of a motel half a mile away from the Dorchester hotel. 

Eve has never been more anxious. She realizes how profound of a statement that is. She has lived with herself for more than two decades, and during that time, she has had to closely examine just how tightly wound she can become if she's not careful. Like a snake eating its own tail, over and over again.

She's sat in a beige motel room, in front of a blank laptop screen with an all-too quiet microphone in her ear, sipping on a shooter of cheap vodka from the mini fridge and she knows, for a fact, that she has never been more anxious in her life

The clock reads _7:35 PM,_ and if everything has gone to plan - that means Carolyn sat down to dinner with Helene exactly five minutes ago, leaving Eve with nothing to do but wait. So she does, she waits and she sips vodka, and she tries not to think herself into oblivion - but there is little she has control over given the current circumstances. She keeps a tight lasso on her thoughts - knowing full-well they'll spiral into a place of negativity and darkness if she doesn't - so she decides to play her hand at hope. She decides to focus on light instead of darkness.

She thinks of Oksana, on a beach in the south of France, with sand clinging to her skin and a smile on her face. She thinks of Oksana ten years older, beautiful and free and wrinkles just starting to pop up around her eyes. She thinks of Oksana laughing, full of love and -

The laptop screen blinks to life at _8:23 P.M_. It's still, static, state quickly transitions to one filled with numbers and letters - strings of code appearing across the length of the screen, along with coordinates. The map in the lower right corner gives birth to a small dot - not moving, but apparent. Its current location: _The Dorchester Hotel_. Carolyn did it. Helene is wearing the bug. 

Eve holds her breath as the software blinks, and suddenly - the previously silent device into ear chirps with the sounds of static and rustling. It makes her heart jump.

"Oksana?" She asks, voice filled to the brim with trepidation. 

She hears the rustling still on the other line, before a sound sweet as music travels through. "Eve? Took you long enough. You really know how to keep a girl waiting." She can hear Oksana's smile, and it outlines the smallest shadow of relief in Eve's bones.

"I had to wait until the bug was activated!" Eve protests, but she's smiling too. 

"I know." Oksana laughs, before adding, gently, "I missed your voice."

Eve laughs too, especially when she glances at the clock. "It's been fifteen hours. _God_ , you really are a lesbian." She quips back, but she's no stranger to the sentiment Oksana put forward. She's been waiting with bells on just to her the sound of the blonde's breath, so she adds, "Me too."

"Oh." Eve cuts in again, before the blonde can respond, as her eyes fix on the now-moving dot at the bottom of her laptop screen. "Helene is moving." She says, in disbelief - the dinner lasted less than hour, and there's no way to know whether that is a good or a bad thing.

Oksana's end of the line is quiet for a moment, before she responds. "Really? She is leaving?" Oksana asks, and Eve can hear rustling from her end of the life. She wonders where the blonde is waiting, wishes she could envision it. "From the Dorchester?"

"Yes." Eve's eyes stay fixed on the dot, and she watches as it moves slowly, but surely, away from the hotel. The ex-MI6 agent can tell from the speed of the movement that the target is in a car, and she watches as it lurches slowly. "It seems she is moving South, but I'll give you the cross streets as they come."

"Okay." Oksana agrees, and Eve hears more rustling.

She doesn't know what to expect - doesn't know whether they should fill the silence with small-talk and Eve entertains asking the question of _So, how was your train ride?_ but can't bring herself to, and when Oksana's end of the line remains silent, she figures that there's no point. They are both tense, and both focused - it doesn't leave a lot of room for pretending otherwise. So Eve sips her vodka, and waits as the dot travels further and further south, relaying the cross-streets to the assassin when applicable, until it arrives in a neighborhood that Eve knows well.

"Oksana." She says, voice sounding a little more ghostly than she had intended, but she can't bring herself to pepper in a false emotion as she stares wide-eyed at the location of the now-still dot on her screen. "She's stopped moving."

"Okay," The assassin responds, rounding out the word, before asking. "And where is she?"

"24th and King. The address is 2437 King Street." Eve continues, voice sounding no less hollow than before, which the younger woman picks up on.

"Got it." She hears more rustling from the other line, and figures the blonde is making her way from the last cross-street Eve had given her. She doesn't speak for a moment, maybe assuming that Eve will articulate more detail about the location, but the older woman is just frozen - staring at her laptop screen. "Care to fill me in here, Eve?"

"Yeah, sorry." Eve shakes her head, willing herself out of the haze her body so desperately wants to put her in. "It's Carolyn's house."

She hears movement still - and for a moment, the microphone becomes eerily quiet. Just the sound of static, and nothing else. Whatever Eve is feeling, she realizes Oksana must be too. She hears movement pick up yet again, and that wills the older woman's mouth to move.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Eve continues, "I don't know if it's a trap, or what exactly. I have no fucking idea - but maybe. I don't know, _fuck_. Maybe we should pull out, Oksana."

Oksana stays quiet for a long time. Eve can hear the sound of her moving, but the younger woman isn't speaking, and Eve wants to reach through the microphone; shake her shoulders, plead her to turn around, but eventually, the younger woman's voice returns.

"No more running." She asserts, in a tone that is gentle but Eve registers it as an order, none the less. "If you have a bad feeling, there is only one way to find out."

"Oh, and Eve?"

"Yeah?"

"You do not need to call me Oksana while I'm working."

Eve nods dumbly - which is stupid, because the blonde can't even see it. But she understands - knows what the blonde is trying to say - understands that there is a definitive line that exists between Oksana and Villanelle, and sure, that line bleeds over - quite literally - but Eve understands that the distinction is important. Maybe more important than ever.

"Okay." She replies. "Just let me know when you're there."

"Oh, I am here." Oksana confirms, and Eve's eyes widen at that. She doesn't know if she's ready for this - and every moment the older woman has spent working in her field really should have prepared her for this, equipped her with a steady mind to deal with the stress and anxiety weighing on her heart, but it hasn't. Nothing could have prepared her for this, she realizes.

"What? Are you in.. disguise, or something?" Eve pleads, desperate to just fucking.. be there.

"Currently, I am just hiding behind a bush." Eve guffaws at that, and Oksana sighs, before continuing. "I did see a Domino's delivery car, and I did consider holding up the driver. Pizza delivery boy seems like a fun one, but we do not know what is going on here - and sometimes, it is better to go without the frills. Less fun, but less detectable."

Eve pinches the bridge of her nose, ignoring whatever urge she has to chastise the younger woman - probably because she know's the assassin has a point. "What do you see?"

"Mm, I am looking in the window and I just see Carolyn, sitting at her table. She's drinking wine and looking.. depressed. I guess she always looks like that though." Oksana provides, and Eve would laugh if she could. The blonde continues, her tone tinted with inquisition, "Your boss is a bitch, Eve, but she is not stupid. There is no possible way she bugged herself, right?"

Eve only has to consider it for a moment, before admitting, "It is highly unlikely."

"I figured." Oksana continues. "I'm going in."

"What?!" Eve basically shrieks from the other end of the line, standing from her chair.

The blonde hisses in response, "Eve, if you are going to do that, I will have to take my microphone out."

The older woman begins to pace around her hotel room, hands on her head, before she whispers, "Fine. _God_ , just please be careful, Oks- Villanelle. Please."

"Always, baby," The assassin responds, assuredly, and Eve stays quiet as she listens intently to the other end of the line. She's hears a series of movements - and she eventually decides that Oksana must be scouring the house for an entrance. It continues on like that for a while, until Eve hears the sound of what she assumes to be a window sliding. 

It sounds a thousand different alarms in her head.

"There is no way Carolyn left a window unlocked," Eve whispers, knowing full-well the blonde is inside the house now, and won't be able to answer. She can't even hear Oksana's footfall - but knows she's must be moving. The assassin has honed her movements down to that of a cat, and Eve has always admired it, and detested it - but right now, she is just grateful that the sound of a pin falling would be louder than Oksana trekking through Carolyn's home. 

Minutes pass - and Eve is surprised there is still hair on her head, given the way she's been tugging at it - but the silence is finally broken by the all-too-familiar sound of a posh accent. The sounder of a boulder being thrown into quiet, unmoving water.

"Villanelle?" Eve can tell from Carolyn's tone that she's surprised - her voice sounds put together, but Eve knows when the older woman is genuinely perplexed, and she definitely is right now.

"Carolyn. Long time, no see." Oksana responds, her voice carrying the weight of a feather, as if she just ran into an aunt she doesn't like that much at a family reunion. Before Carolyn can inquire about the younger woman's presence in her home, Oksana asks, "So.. any chance you bugged yourself?"

She hears a moment pass between the two of them. Still, and quiet. A hesitation - when there is no time for there to be one. Eve would do anything, anything in the world, just to see their faces; to understand, at least a little bit, what the fuck is going on.

"No." Carolyn eventually responds, her tone heavy with honesty. "No, I dare say that's perfectly impossible."

"Ah. I was worried you would say that." Oksana relents, and God, Eve deserves a gold-medal for dissecting what the tone of somebody's voice could indicate in the current situation, but Oksana confirms it, immediately. "I think it's safe to assume we have company."

And when another voice carries through the sound of Eve's earpiece, it is neither Carolyn's or Oksana's. _No_ , it the voice of the devil. French and insidious.

"Carolyn." Helene's calm tone sets Eve's skin ablaze - like she's standing beside a house that's burning down, the embers sticking to her flesh. "Villanelle." The French woman's voice rolls over the name as if she's equal parts surprised, and elated, to see her. Whatever may be happening, Eve assumes that Helene did not know Villanelle would be part of it.

She hears one gun cock, and then another immediately follow suit. She knows that Oksana and Helene are pointing at one another - but who drew first, is left up to Eve's imagination entirely. She decides not to entertain her imagination right now. She decides to break a promise. 

She lunges for her suitcase, fishing a gun out of it, while she listens desperately through the microphone. 

" _Ma cherie_ , it is good to see you. I still think about you, you know?" She can hear Helene's voice, steady and unwavering, as it moves closer. She wonders if the older woman is closing in on Villanelle - but as quickly as the Twelve member's voice gets closer, it moves further away. "I think about you because it is hard not to think about perfection. And you, Villanelle, you are nearly perfect." Her voice is getting further, and Eve's concern only grows - while it is obvious Helene is there for Carolyn, it's clear that her attention is completely consumed by the assassin.

"Nearly?" Oksana snorts, feigning complete confidence to counter Helene.

The older woman's voice continues to drift until Eve can barely hear it, has to completely halt her movements to make out the French woman's words. 

"Nearly." Helen confirms, before making a tutting sound. "I do not accept betrayal lightly, Villanelle. In fact, I do not accept it at all." 

Eve hears a faucet turn on, and her eyebrows draw together in an ever-growing confusion, until Carolyn's voice breaks up the movements. Eve nearly forgot she was there.

"Would you care to tell me why you're in my house, Helene?"

Helene ignores the British woman all together, and Eve hears the faucet turn off. 

"Come here, Villanelle." Her voice is sweet, maternal, enticing, and it makes Eve sick, makes her knees buckle until she's on the ground beside her suitcase, clutching her gun with a white-knuckled grip. 

She hears Oksana take a few steps, complying - which only confirms Eve's suspicion that she has a gun pointed at her head - before Helene continues. "Good girl," she hears the French woman whisper, hears it too close, hears the sound of fingers running through hair, and Eve's face drains of blood. When Helene speaks again, her mouth is on Oksana's ear - and Eve realizes, that the Twelve member must be holding the young woman in her arms - "Now, take the microphone out of your ear and throw it in the sink." 

Eve's blood turns to a different substance all together - thick, and sludgy, and barely moving through her veins. She wonders if she'll die here - in this god-forsaken, probably-haunted hotel room, until Oksana's voice cuts through one last time. "I'm sorry, Helene," she hears the younger woman say, before hearing the microphone land somewhere with a distinct plop, before cutting out immediately.

And Eve hears the apology, registers it, _knows_ it was for her even though it was directed to a different, disgusting name. It's enough to get kick the gears in her body into overdrive, and she gets up from the floor of the hotel room. She moves quickly, tucking the gun into her waistband, before bolting out the door; picking the microphone out of her ear, and tossing it along the way. 

And even if they are in the dark, at least they are there together. 

Eve's feet are numb as she runs towards the street, runs down the street, runs towards Carolyn's neighborhood, runs until she is able to flag down a cab that is passing her on the road. She waves it down, nearly throwing her body in front of it, and it comes to a screeching halt.

It isn't until she's tucked inside the car, giving the driver the coordinates of a location one street over from Carolyn's, that she manages to speak Oksana's words back to her.

"I'm sorry," she says, out loud, to the stale air in the taxi, to the confused driver who must assume she's apologizing for nearly colliding her body with the car, when she's really apologizing for breaking the only promise she's ever made to the woman she loves most in this world. 

"I'm sorry," she says again, tears biting at the corner of her eyes, to an Oksana who isn't there, to an Oksana who shouldn't be anywhere other than Eve's side, to an Oksana - she prays to a God, she decides to believe in this time - is still alive. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we made it, ya'll! 
> 
> well, technically. as I said there will be a postface, catching up with the characters a little on down the road, but this is the chapter that officially closes out the story!
> 
> I do this on every chapter, but I seriously can't express my gratitude at all of you sticking along for the ride with me! this pic has been such a joy to write - a challenging joy - but it means the world that we got to experience it together! 
> 
> it was really fun to write from Eve's POV.. it has only encouraged me to think about how fun it would be to write from Villanelle's! perhaps I can put that into action in a future fic! ;)
> 
> thank you SO much. as always, sending a thousand well wishes to all of you!

"Stop!" Eve yells, and the cab comes to a screeching halt - one street over from Carolyn's address.

The cab driver turns around, giving her a disgruntled look, all-too-ready to berate her. Eve silences him by throwing the rest of the cash she has on her person onto the glove glove compartment; his eyes widen a bit, regarding the amount. Eve doesn't stick around to hear what he has to say. 

She's out out of the cab immediately - walking as quickly as she can, without it being considered running - until she rounds the corner to Carolyn's street. The street is quiet, alit with a few dimly-lit street lamps, but Eve is able to make out an SUV parked diagonal from the British woman's home. 

She weighs her options, considering what she knows about Helene's excess need for security, and understands it as possibility that there are more eyes surveying the area than those that happen to be sitting inside the parked car. 

She exhales, before deciding the best route is also the riskiest route, but she doesn't have the time to consider the outcome. She hops a neighbor's fence, before trekking across the yard in a half-crouched position, and hopping another. There is so much that could go wrong - a neighbor seeing her and deciding to call the cops, or a potential guard dog waiting for her in one of the grassy backyards, or somebody just deciding to _fucking_ shoot her because she is on their property - so much, but nothing feels more wrong than the thought of Oksana being in danger, and Eve not being near her. The gun in her waistband, that pokes into her skin every time she jumps yet another fence, reminds her of this. She crosses three more backyards, before she lands on Carolyn's property. She's fully out of breath by the time she arrives, and she realizes that poking fun at Oksana's morning runs has probably been in bad taste. 

It doesn't take long before she finds the unlatched window - Carolyn only has three that reside at ground level, and for once, Eve gets lucky when the first one she tries slides open without difficulty. She lands on the ground with a quiet thud, and hears the sound of subdued voices before she can even begin trekking a path to the kitchen. Her footfall is quiet, but her heart pumps a rhythmic thumping that echoes throughout her entire body. She follows the trail of sound, her feet moving like molasses, until she is directly outside of the kitchen - the wall blocking her view, and she pulls the gun out of her waistband in favor of holding her trembling hand around the grip of it. 

"Oksana," Helene coos, and Eve's vision is blurred by a tint of red at the use of the blonde's birth name by the French woman, "Do you know the dismay it would bring me to kill you? To kill something so powerful, so.. _beautiful_?" She tuts, slowly, before adding, "I do not like killing beautiful things - but I also do not like begging, so please don't attempt to make me. I am only going to offer you this once, so consider your answer carefully."

She hears Oksana grunt; it's strained, as if the younger woman is behind held in some sort of choke-hold, and Eve almost propels herself into the kitchen. It takes every inch of her willpower to stay put, to allow another moment, to remind herself that Helene won't kill Oksana before she offers her something. _Thump, thump, thump_. 

Eve stills against the wall, as if the French woman could possibly her heart, and Helene continues, "Work for me, Oksana. We can make beautiful things together; build a beautiful empire. Give me your loyalty, and I will give you peace. A beautiful life. Is that not what you want?" Helene's tone is maternal - like a mother offering her daughter some sort of reward if she brings home a good report card, and Eve realizes that this is what evil looks like. This is what darkness looks like. "Work for me, and we can leave here together. _Peacefully_."

Oksana releases another strained grunt, and Eve can feel her rejection before she speaks it, so she takes that as cue. Or maybe her body is moving simply because she no longer has a choice. She rounds the corner, stumbling into a standing position in the kitchen before pointing a trembling gun at Helene's head. 

All the eyes in the room fall upon her immediately. Carolyn, quirks an eyebrow, from her seated position at the table. Helene's eyes are alit with fire and annoyance, as she holds Oksana in a choke-hold position from behind, one arm around her neck - her other hand holding a gun to the blonde's temple. And finally, Oksana. Oksana is looking at her with wide, desperate eyes - a visual communication of _No, Eve_ and it's enough for the older woman to wonder if she made the right move by coming here.

When she pulls her eyes away to survey the room, she sees Oksana's gun disregarded on the countertop; just out of reach. The sight allows Eve to know that she made the right decision, even if it costs her life. 

Eve watches the the lines tighten around Helene's mouth, watches her resolve stitch itself back together, before she regards her. She keeps the gun steady at Oksana's temple - and Eve deflates, but knows Helene is wise enough not to pull her weapon away from a highly-skilled assassin in favor of pointing it an inexperienced retired MI6 agent who can barely hold a gun. 

"Eve Polastri," Helene states, not indulging in even enough theatrics to muster a fake smile, but she watches as the French woman tightens her arm around Oksana's neck, "I suppose I should have known you wouldn't be far behind."

Eve lets her eyes flitter between her hold on Oksana, and the gun to hear head before regaining eye contact with the Twelve member. She's skilled - Eve can tell from the way she holds herself, she may be the only member of the Twelve who has actually worked herself to the top. Eve wouldn't be surprised if she had been an assassin some number of years ago. The thought makes her sick, and it's not hard to understand how Oksana has found herself in a surprisingly compromised position. The assassin was not ready to kill again, let alone kill the only person in the world who may have a leg up on her skill-level.

"I never am." Eve replies, mustering whatever confidence she can to keep her voice steady. Carolyn snorts at that, and both Helene and Eve throw an annoyed glance in the British woman's direction. 

"It's true." Carolyn offers, her mouth settling into a straight line, before she crosses her legs and sits back in her chair. "She is.. _persistent_."

Helene ignores her, and continues on, "It is an annoying quality, I must admit. To be persistent without any real skill. Like a moth who can't stop throwing its body into a light bulb."

Eve rolls her eyes at the analogy, even if it's true. Oksana is a light, and she will follow Oksana's light to the end of her days, if only to remind the blonde that she is a beacon of it. 

"Cut the shit. God, you Twelve people love to small-talk. Seriously." Eve's anger molds within her, from something frazzled and erratic - to something calculated and precise, and her tone holds a lot more heat when she speaks again. "I just sat on a train for ten fucking hours. Next to a _crying baby_ , for God's sake. You could imagine that I'm not in the mood for your games, nor this anticipatory buildup. What do you _want_ , Helene?" 

Helene raises an eyebrow - not an impressed one, but one to convey her genuine surprise at Eve taking such a tone with her while she holds her lover at gunpoint - but Eve knows a bluff when she sees one. Even from a snake like Helene. The French woman will not kill what she considers to be her most powerful weapon - not until she has confirmed, undeniably, that the weapon will not be in her possession. 

"Nor am I in the mood to waste my energy upon such an.. insignificant presence, but here we are, Eve." She relents, and it makes Eve feel powerful - even if it has little to do with her commanding the French woman to talk, and more to do with the gun she has pointed at the stretch of skin between her eyes. Oksana isn't struggling anymore, her hands rest still against Helene's forearm, and she is looking at Eve with high regard - a faint smile playing at her lips. It steadies Eve; motivates her. "What I want has shifted drastically in the last hour. I wanted to have faith in my colleague. " She gestures to Carolyn, with a tilt of her head, "and then I wanted to retire my colleague, once I realized there was no faith to be had, after our.. _less-than-pleasant_ dinner. Something I had confirmed when Oksana was here to greet me upon my entry. I must say, I was impressed. I do not remember the last time I was effectively bugged. Perhaps the only intelligent move you have made as of late, Carolyn." But Carolyn doesn't respond, doesn't dare, not when Oksana thrashes around in Helene's arm, causing the French woman to tighten her grip.

"You do not get to call me that," Oksana releases, in a strained exhale. Eve's heart wanes.

Helene continues, and she adjusts herself and Oksana so that she is facing Carolyn more directly, "We have not always seen eye-to-eye, Carolyn. That is indisputable, but I had good faith that we wanted the same thing - to uphold the Twelve, to continue to breathe life into it, to maintain a _legacy_. So, what changed, hm?"

Carolyn straightens her posture, burning holes into the French woman's eyes, and her words are laced with animosity when they are given life. "You killed my son, Helene." 

Helene lets out a shrill laugh, throwing her head back a bit, and it jostles Oksana. "This is about Kenny?" She laughs again, and Eve watches as Carolyn's fingers tighten into balls in her lap. "You are more sensitive than you let on, Carolyn. I would kill my own daughter, without batting an eye, if I found out that she was meddling with the Twelve. It is nothing personal."

The admittance disturbs the air - Eve's blood runs cold, Carolyn's posture stiffens, Oksana eyes fill with an unprecedented rage, and Helene remains.. well, completely unaffected. It is a hostile truth, and Eve realizes there are people in this world who exist only in darkness - no light to be found, no matter how hard you search. 

It happens very quickly - it always does.

Oksana is visibly shaking in Helene's arms, before letting out a scream - one that starts out as a growl, but grows shrill - and she throws her head backwards. The back of her skull collides with Helene's nose with a deafening crack, followed immediately by a similar sound when Helene's gun fires.The sound makes Eve recoil, hands automatically coming up to cover her ears, but when she recovers - she is met with the image of Oksana and Helene on the ground. The blonde is atop the older woman with her hands around her neck, and the Twelve member is laying on her back - blood pumping from her nose - as she struggles to free herself from Oksana's weight. The French woman's hand jots out to her side, grasping for her gun that has been dropped to the ground, and her fingers only barely make contact with the barrel before it is snatched from her reach. 

Oksana's fingers are squeezing tightly around the width of the French woman's neck, and Helene's face is quickly turning into a grotesque shade of purple - before her features are indeterminable, now covered by a deadly shade of red as a bullet tears into her forehead. A second one falls suit shortly afterwards, putting two holes in front of Helene's forehead.

Oksana stills, and Eve can see from where she stands that the blonde's face is also streaked with the liquid of Helene's body. Eve can't move, can barely turn her head, but she manages the movement, ever so slightly, to be met with the image of Carolyn standing over the French woman - gun still aimed at the head that is now forming a pool of blood underneath.

"I'm sorry. I'm not usually so.. _excessive_ ," she provides, her voice gentle against the harsh air of the room, "I do believe that was my only opportunity to properly avenge my son's death."

Eve mouth hangs open, and Oksana slowly climbs off of Helene's corpse - not tearing her eyes away from it, as she does. When she finally comes to a stand, she wipes at the blood lingering in the corner of her eye, before addressing Carolyn. "It is okay. She was a shit mother."

Carolyn nods, once at that. 

Holy _shit_.

Eve's brain can't catch up, but her breathing does.

Eve finally releases an exhale, letting her eyes take in the scene of the kitchen, before her eyes fix on the stray bullet that has lodged itself the wall above Carolyn's kitchen sink - a missed shot, a determination of life of death lodged into the wall. She lets her eyes trail down the small crack it has put into the paint, before they travel back down to Oksana's face - Oksana's beautiful, unscathed, face. She stumbles forward, gun still in hand, and collapses into Oksana's arms, and the blonde catches her immediately. She holds her tightly, pressing her cheek against the top of Eve's head, before saying, "Eve, I am getting blood on your beautiful hair."

Eve squeezes her tighter, and breathes the most honest relief she ever has into her reply, "Not your blood, though."

She feels Oksana relax against her body, before giving a small nod. "No, not my blood."

Carolyn clears her throat - but whatever she is about to say is interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open. Eve whips around as Oksana lunges for her gun on the counter, and Carolyn steels herself at their side. They all whip their attention to kitchen entryway when two suited men rush into view - they both have hands on the hostels on the sides of their hips, but they hesitate in a moment of obvious perplex given the sight they're met with - first, with Helene's bleeding body on the ground, and second, with the sight of all three women pointing loaded guns directly at their heads.

"Oh, dear. It seems you are outnumbered." Carolyn relays, her voice tinged with a hint of mock dismay, before ordering, "Your boss is dead. You have no one to respond to. I suggest you make quick work of deciding your own fate before I do it for you." 

They pause in the doorway for a moment - exchanging a glance of silent confusion, like puppets who's strings have been snipped - and Eve would recount the sight as humorous if it wasn't so drab.

"Go!" Oksana shouts, jutting her gun towards them a little further, "Unless you want to end up like your _shit_ boss!" 

They scramble at the the sound of Oksana's voice, before pummeling out of the doorway, and out of Carolyn's house completely. 

"Well, I am just going to.." Carolyn waves her gun in the direction of her front door, indicating that it is probably a good time to lock it, before leaving the kitchen. 

Eve and Oksana look at each other, before lowering guns at their sides. 

They don't move closer to one another - just take each other in from the distance they are, in one-piece, unscathed, _free_.

"You did it." Eve relays, voice tinted with equal parts relief and disbelief. Not that she had ever doubted Oksana, not even close, but it just.. happened so fast. Eve tries to make sense of it, but she has come to realize you can't make sense of death. It is just a flash, and then it's done. A life is taken - in a matter of moments.

  
"Well.. technically, Carolyn did it." Oksana corrects, tucking the gun into the back of her pants, before letting her hands rest on her hips and shooting Eve a coy smile. "But I will accept the victory, for the sake of the moment."

They just smile at each other - their eyes a little too light given they're occupying the same room as a bleeding corpse, but it feels light. Oksana's eyes look like a door - open, and leading a path to somewhere safe.

"I do think it is safe to say that we did it." Carolyn's eyes break their gaze away from one another, in favor of glancing at the British woman in the doorway, who stands there wiping the gun with her ruined shirt. Eve's eye fix on the blood splatters painting Carolyn's front, and she wonders what emotions, if any, are bubbling behind Carolyn's unreadable eyes. The older woman takes a few strides forward, setting the gun on the counter, before leaning against it and directing her attention towards Oksana. "I dare not deny a celebration when it is well deserved." Her eyes cast an amused gaze over Helene's bleeding body, "However, I do believe it is in our best interest to.. _clean up_.. before we start pouring the wine." 

Eve is about to ask how exactly they are going to do that, but Oksana and Carolyn seem to be locked into some sort of telepathic conversation before Eve can get the words out. The assassin glances at Helene's body, bobbing her head as if she's weighing the best option, before she regains eye contact with the British woman.

"Bath tub?" Oksana asks, eyebrows raised.

"There is lye underneath the bathroom sink on the top floor." Carolyn replies, giving a single nod as she does. 

Lye. Sodium Hydroxide. 

_Oh_.

Eve's stomach churns a bit - she swallows to manage the bubbling feeling taking place in her gut - and Oksana catches on, her eyes lingering on Eve's bobbing throat.

"I will take care of it." The blonde says, unaffectedly, as if she's agreeing to do the dishes because the chore wheel landed on her name. It sends a chill down Eve's spine. After spending uninterrupted time with Oksana away from the reality of their worlds, it was easy to forget that there is a side to her that does not mind watching flesh disintegrate away from bone. Maybe even likes it, a little bit. It sends a chill down Eve's spine, sure, but does not disrupt her. Does not make her think twice about the love she has committed herself to. Does not change it a bit, actually.

"Very well," Carolyn tilts her chin, clasping her hands together as she pushes away from the counter. "I will take care of the floor." Eve feels Carolyn's eyes on her, but the dark-haired woman maintains a staring contest with her feet. "Why don't you just sit down, Eve? I'm worried you'll vomit otherwise. That will just be more mess to clean up."

Eve nods, swallowing once more, and it is a feat given the dryness of her throat. She takes a few steps backwards until she collapses into one of the chairs at Carolyn's kitchen table. When her stomach settles the slightest bit, the gears in her brain start to click into place and serve to remind her that they're lingering, all too calmly, in a _fucking_ crime scene.

"Doesn't sodium hydroxide take hours to actually dissolve a body?" She asks, curiously. She doesn't know, for sure - but she had spent a lot of time with Bill studying numerous serial killers, and there was a definite uptick in the Acid method after _Breaking Bad_ aired. Her and Bill used to crack jokes about it, to deal with the images they'd have to pick through of corpses half-disintegrated in bathrooms, working on case after case.

"Many." Carolyn relies, and Oksana nods. 

Eve guffaws at that, her eyes widening as she looks between the two of them who seem all too content with the outcome they're choosing. "What if the police show up? I think it's safe to assume your neighbors heard at least one of the _three_ gun shots!"

Carolyn is hiding a smile, Eve can tell and it makes her want to rip her hair out, but she responds in an even manner. "Eve, with all due respect, you - maybe, more than anyone - should know the Twelve are incredibly well-connected. _Hell_ , half of the Twelve work adjacent to the London police force. They will not come to my address without specific instruction to do so." 

_Damn_ , she's right - and Eve realizes Oksana isn't the only one off her game.

"Right." Eve responds, deflating a bit - half with relief, half with embarrassment. Her brain has still has not adjusted to operating at full-capacity after seeing somebody get their brains blown out. 

Carolyn steps forward, hands on her hips, as she takes a last glance at Helene's cold body against the tile.

"Eve, I do hate to ask, but do you think you could help Villanelle get her upstairs?" Oksana glances at Eve hestitantly - the same question floating in her eyes. Oksana is strong, unbelievably so, but not strong enough to carry the dead-weight body of a person taller than her up a flight of stairs, and Carolyn is.. not as young as she used to be. 

Eve nods, standing up slowly, looking to the blonde for further instruction.

"I will take her head, Eve.. just get her feet." Eve exhales, nodding silently, before positioning herself at the woman's legs. When Oksana crouches down, so does Eve, and soon they're lifting Helene's lifeless body off the ground - _fuck_ , she's heavy - before dragging her to the stairwell, and carrying her up it, barely managing. Oksana leads the way.

The air is silent, painted with the sounds of their strained breaths, before Oksana chimes in, throwing a look at Eve's flustered face. "You know, Eve.. this is actually kind of romantic."

And Eve laughs. She just _fucking_ laughs. 

It's not bitter, or disturbed. It's just a simple, genuine laugh.

Oksana's face relaxes in relief at the sound, and they get to the top of the stairs in a few more steps before settling for dragging Helene's body the rest of the distance to the bathroom. Once they get her into the tub, Oksana crouches down to look through the cabinet under the sink - dismissing Eve from the room as she does so.

"You can go, Eve. You probably will not want to see this." She says softly, and Eve feels instant relief at the words. Her stomach is already feeling fragile; she's not sure she can handle the sight of the French woman's body submerging into acid. "I will be down soon."

Eve nods, before leaving the bathroom, and making her way back down the staircase and into the kitchen. Carolyn has made quick work of cleaning the tile, and she's wiping up the last of the blood when she instructs Eve to take a seat, before adding, "There's a lovely red on the counter next to the sink. I assume we could both use a drink."

Eve practically lunges out of her chair at the offer. She grasps the bottle from the counter, making quick work of the cork, before pulling a few mugs out of Carolyn's cupboard and setting them on the table. She pours herself a generous amount, sitting down and running her hands through her untamed hair. She stares the wine in the mug; fixates on the depths of the red, thinks it's looks like the liquid that drained from Helene's head only moments earlier. She tapes a sip.

Carolyn's finishes cleaning some time later - disappearing from the kitchen to dispose of the rags and bloody water - Eve realizes just how she does that when she hears the toilet flush, and realizes cleaning up a crime scene is relatively easy when you have the time and resource to do so. The British woman reappears shortly afterwards, cocking an eyebrow as she sits down, surveying the coffee cups in front of her.

"You do know that I have wine glasses, Eve?" Carolyn asks, inquisitively, letting her eyes bounce back up to meet Eve's gaze.

Eve just shrugs. 

Carolyn relents, pouring some of the wine into her coffee cup before adding, "Wine is wine. I suppose." And she offers her mug out to Eve, which elicits a quiet laugh from the dark-haired woman before she clinks the mug against her ex-boss' in the darkest cheers that's ever been.. _cheered_. 

"Oh, that is lovely." Carolyn acknowledges, after taking a sip. She rests the mug back on the table, her hands resting around the sides. Eve has a hard time reading the older woman - but she understands her mood to be one similar to that which she experienced before the two of them had dinner years ago with Konstantin and Vladimir. Not as excited, maybe, but.. celebratory, none the less. Eve realizes, only then, that the British woman was well expecting to die tonight, and Eve asks in an attempt to confirm her curiosity.

"You thought Helene was going to kill you, huh?" Eve asks, and she's watching Carolyn closely over the top of her mug. 

"I did think it was a possibility." Carolyn shrugs. "But as I said before, Eve.. it is not death that concerns me, at this point. If I were to die, that would be fine." She shrugs again, taking another sip, before adding, straightening the length of her spine. "But I have accepted, entirely too late, a grave interest in justice being served. I think we saw some part of that tonight."

A shrill, shocked laugh escapes Eve's lips at that. It's just.. _too much_. Carolyn Martens is interested in justice? Carolyn Martens who has been working for the Twelve long since before Eve knew her? Carolyn Martens who walks around with blood dripping from her fingertips? Carolyn Martens who ties her emotions up in a neat little box, and buries it underneath the depths of her humanity?

Carolyn doesn't jump; doesn't react immediately, as if Eve's reaction to her sentiment was expected. The British woman hums into her wine glass, taking another sip, and allowing Eve her moment of reaction. 

When Eve just sits there slack-jawed, Carolyn continues.

"I understand how hard that may be to believe, but humans are curious creatures. We have the terrible habit of losing direction of our moral compass, only to cling for it desperately when it is too late." Carolyn averts her gaze, and Eve knows that she must be thinking of Kenny. Eve softens a bit, her lips pursing into a straight line, and she knows she can never understand the feeling - the feeling that comes with a mother losing her child, even when that mother is somebody as cold and cruel as Carolyn. "I do not want to be assumptive, Eve. Assumptions, more often than not, are a useless waste of energy - but I do feel it safe to assume that you can relate, even slightly, to what I must be talking about. Oksana, too."

Eve shrinks in her chair, shoulders slumping with an added weight of Carolyn using the Villanelle's birth name, because it's true. Eve can sit here, regard everything the older woman says with a hyper-critical lens, but at the end of the day - is that not exactly what Eve is doing? Trying to figure out the direction of her moral compass? Trying to figure out where she fits into humanity - what her humanity means to her? Trying to lighten the weight of the blood dripping from her fingertips? 

"It may mean something different to you, Eve - I don't know what your plans are. But I think that I know what I must do now, and that is finish the work my son started." Carolyn relays, tight-lipped and stern, but truth resides in each crinkle around around the older woman's mouth. 

The statement sobers Eve, and she rests her mug on her table, before leaning her weight on her elbows to get a closer look at Carolyn. "Isn't that what we just did? Kill Helene and the Twelve is temporarily disabled.. that is what you said. _Right_?" 

"Temporarily, yes." Carolyn affirms, clasping her hands on the table, before continuing. "But I am not interested in temporary solutions. I am interested in seeing each member of the Twelve being taken down, one by one. Ceasing the operation, completely."

Eve's eyes widen at that, desperate for answers especially when the older woman is only creating more questions. "How do you intend to do that? You said it - the only reason we're safe right now is because the Twelve are motivated by their own self-interests. They're probably going into hiding as we speak. _Right_?" Eve's questions come out desperately, angrily - this was a means to an end, not a means to a series of a thousand other never-ending ends.

Carolyn nods, tapping her fingers against the wood surface of the kitchen table, as she considers her words. "Yes. My intention is to not let that happen. The Twelve is a completely organized, hierarchal structure. That is why it so easily crumbles if you take out the top of.. said hierarchy." Carolyn sips her wine gingerly, before continuing. "Each and every member is self-obsessed. Of course, that bleeds into their individual lives, above all.. but it also bleeds into their desire to carry on a legacy." Carolyn pauses, maintaining steady eye contact with Eve, before continuing. "I want to find each member, and I want to kill them. Nobody is untraceable, I have learned."

Carolyn's eyes glance to the upper floor of her home, and Eve inhales sharply when she realizes she's referencing Oksana. Eve's eyes blink with realization - _yes_ , even those without a static or steady identity are traceable, like Oksana - and those who are able to relocate and assume new identities as many times as they please due to their limitless wealth are _also_ traceable.. even if it requires a hell of a lot more work. Eve feels that familiar feeling tingling in her spine - and she knows Carolyn is building up to something that has not been explicitly stated.

"You didn't answer my question. How do you _intend_ to do that?" Eve asks again, tensely, speaking through gritted teeth without realizing it.

Carolyn eyes her amusedly, before softening her gaze. "It is an offer, Eve - a paid offer at that, but not an ultimatum. You and Oksana are completely free to do as you please. Run off together, live happily ever after. Or whatever.. your version of that is." She gestures her hand lazily, and Eve is about to interject with a _what the hell is that supposed to mean?_ when Carolyn cuts her off. "If you are interested in working with me," Eve notes the careful word choice, "then the offer is on the table, but please do not forget that is only an offer. If you feel so inclined to accept it, then I will work with your terms. If you do not, that is fine. My promise remains the same. I will ensure that you and Oksana remain untraceable, to the best of my ability."

Eve sips her wine, leaning back in her chair, allowing Carolyn's words to register slowly and surely. "You just said nobody is untraceable." 

"Yes," Carolyn nods, "hence the repeated statement - to the best of my ability."

"Oksana doesn't want to kill anymore." Eve counters.

"It would be infrequent - and again, on your terms. That means maybe even a year between hits. A year to spend on a beach in Portugal in between, or whatever.. tickles your fancy. Digging up a member of the Twelve's location is.. incessant work - grueling, really. And that is on a case by case basis." Carolyn counters back.

"Oksana does not want to kill anymore." Eve asserts, her fingers digging into her upper arms as she crosses them across her chest. 

"If that is the case, very well. But we are not speaking of needless killing anymore, Eve. These are people who have lived lives dedicated to bloodshed. Innocent bloodshed, at that." Carolyn inhales, swirling the wine in her cup, before taking another sip. "I just wonder if that justice I spoke about before is something that Oksana also wants to see."

Eve stills, at that. 

She recounts the careful words Oksana spoke to her as they laid in the grass, just the day before. 

_I do not want to kill. Not for a while, at least._

She didn't expand upon the statement - and Eve didn't feel the need to inspect further. Didn't feel the need to dissect exactly what those words meant. Who is she to speak for Oksana? They don't do that anymore. They don't decide one another's fate anymore. They make decisions together. 

Eve readjusts in her seat, exhaling a bit of tension from her posture, before responding to the older woman. "This is a conversation that involves Oksana. It is as much her decision as it is mine. I'm not interested in speaking about it without her present."

Carolyn is taken aback by that - a rare shock washing over her eyes, as she leans back in her chair, letting her hands fall away from the table. "That is.. _fascinating_." She breathes out, her eyes analyzing Eve as if she was a specimen under a microscope. It makes Eve squirm a bit in her seat.

"What?" The younger woman barks at her.

Carolyn's eyebrows knit together, and a small smile curls at the corner of her lips - intrigued, and twisted in disbelief. "You love each other."

Eve's eyes widen at that, and she loses whatever bite she had to the bark that was so prevalent only a moment beforehand. She shrinks, yet again, into the comfort of her chair but she can feel the tinge of heat painting her cheekbones. 

She doesn't say a word.

Carolyn continues - something Carolyn does not usually do, as she is a woman that only talks when she deems it necessary - but her eyes are still alit with a level of interest that makes Eve want to disappear into herself. Carolyn blinks, willing herself out of it by taking a sip of wine, but she continues on with her observation.

"I won't speak about it further, Eve, but you really should be relishing in this. I am rarely wrong, and you are getting to experience one of the few moments that I am. Not that I am concerned with your relationship. I was only concerned when it interfered with your work - when I was considering writing you up unfit for duty. I understood it as an obsession."

Eve swallows, her cheeks burning with a powerful flame, and she keeps her gaze locked on the wine in her cup. 

She processes the latter half of Carolyn's statement a bit too late, and she straightens up, eyes aflame when she does, "You were going to deem me _unfit_ for duty?!"

Carolyn ignores her question completely; she continues to speak on something she just said she wouldn't speak further about.

"And then when I found the two of you in Ireland, I understood it as lust. That is not a judgement, to be clear. Lust is something that I am no stranger to, I do know it when I see it." Eve's skin tingles, uncomfortable with Carolyn's continued prodding, but the older woman doesn't seem to regard it, "But love.. that is something I know as well, as I tend to turn as far as possible in the other direction when it rears its ugly head towards me." Carolyn's lip curls in a genuine disgust, and Eve briefly wonders who she's thinking of - Konstantin, maybe. "It is just.. interesting, Eve, that's all." 

"You just said you were done talking about it!" Eve groans, feeling more like a teenager than a _fucking_ forty year-old woman, and she wants to disappear completely.

Carolyn ignores this, in favor of asking, quite simply, "Do you trust her?"

"Yes." Eve replies honestly, doesn't know why - it's not like she owes Carolyn that.

Carolyn hums, finally tearing her gaze away from Eve, in favor of pouring more wine into her mug. "What's more interesting, is that I think that you can."

Eve's throat dries at that - Carolyn's approval is rarely given, Eve isn't even sure she's ever felt the completeness of it, and she's shocked to her core that she's receiving it in regards to her falling in love with a psychopath.

But Oksana isn't a psychopath. Not totally. She's just.. _Oksana_. 

The moment is gratefully interrupted by the sound of the young woman descending the staircase, as if Eve's thoughts quite literally pulled her into their vicinity. 

"Hey guys!" She trots into the kitchen with a chipper tone, as if she was not just melting flesh away from bone in a bath tub, before plopping down into the chair next to Eve. "I would not go up there for a while." Oksana shakes her head, a small frown of disgust appearing momentarily, before her eyes fix on the wine bottle. She grasps it eagerly, taking a sip directly from the bottle and wiping her mouth, before looking between Carolyn and Eve slowly. 

They just stare back, silently. 

"What did I miss?" Oksana asks, eyes wide in faux concern. "God, it's like someone died in here!" The blonde bites her lip at that, looking at them eagerly, but when she continues to receive no reaction - she just falls back in her seat with an exasperated sigh.

"Come on." She says, letting her legs spread out until her knee knocks against Eve's. "That was funny." 

Eve just rolls her eyes, grabbing the wine bottle from Oksana's hand, before pouring some into the empty mug and sliding it in front of the blonde. An act of love, amidst the annoyance, that the blonde accepts happily. 

Carolyn gives Oksana a tight-lipped smile over her mug. "Thank you for taking care of that, Villanelle. How long do you imagine it will take?"

Oksana considers, biting her lip, "Six hours. Give or take."

Eve narrows her eyes at Carolyn, her eyebrows knitting together as she regards the woman. "Why do you have sodium hydroxide just sitting around? Don't you usually have your people do your killing for you?"

"Mm, yes." Carolyn sips her wine. "I don't ever expect to intend to have to dispose of a body in my own home, but that does not mean I am not prepared. The same way I never intend to kill, but still have a plethora of guns just in case." 

Oksana's eyes light up a bit at that, "Where are the guns? I would like to see them."

Eve swats her shoulder, and Oksana eyes bulge at that. "Seriously? Are you both allergic to fun?"

"Yes." Carolyn answers, immediately, before turning her attention to Eve. "I suggest the two of you stay here tonight, and I can drive you to the station in the morning. Do you have any belongings with you, Eve?" 

Eve's eyebrows furrow a bit at the idea of staying the night in Carolyn's home, but she figures it's better to play it safe by not leaving the house tonight when Helene's security could still be lingering in the area. "Yes, I have a room at the Motel 6, down the street for the Dorchester. That's where my suitcase is, and the laptop." She relays.

"Do you have the motel key?" 

Eve fishes it out of her pocket, and sets it on the table. 

"Very well. I'll send for a driver to collect your things." Carolyn picks her glasses up from the table, setting them on the bridge of her nose, before pulling out her iPhone, and Oksana's jaw drops at that.

"You have a phone?" The blonde asks, in surprise. Carolyn and Eve exchanged a confused glance.

"Yes? Don't you?"

"Usually, but I just always imagined you communicating.. _differently_. By.. carrier pigeon or something."

Eve snorts at that, and Carolyn just raises her eyebrows before excusing herself to make a phone call. When the older woman leaves the room, Oksana and Eve finally allow themselves to take one another in, peacefully - Oksana stretches her arm over the back of Eve's chair, which the dark-haired woman settles into. Eve is close enough to see the specks of green floating around the blonde's irises, and the images unknots the tension that had been wound at the base of Eve's spin.

"Hi." Eve whispers.

Oksana smirks at that, "Hey." 

"Are you okay?" Eve asks, her voice quiet with curious concern.

"Yes." Oksana replies, truthfully, before returning the question. "Are you?"

"Aside from the fact that we will be spending the night in my ex-boss' home, I am fine, yes." Eve relays, a soft smile playing at her lips. 

Oksana lets out a quiet laugh at that, and Eve takes a moment to drink in her features. Oksana is so different when it's just the two of them - soft, gentle, unguarded - and Eve will never divorce herself from the level of gratitude she feels being able to be the person who gets to experience her in this light. In her true light.

"So, back to Ireland tomorrow?" Eve asks, uncertain whether it's wise to return to the place they had previously been hiding away. But it may be the first time they don't have to worry about somebody trying to find them - not right away, at least. As Carolyn said, the Twelve is probably far more concerned with hiding from Oksana rather than finding her. 

"Mm, yes, but I have to make a stop first." Oksana relays, exasperatedly, and Eve raises her eyebrows in question. "I have a safe box in Paris. It is where the rest of my things are, which I will need unless we want to stay in Abban's farmhouse for the foreseeable future."

Eve frowns, and it's a stupid one - one that tugs at the corner of her lips at the thought of being separated from Oksana again, and she considers just moving into that little farmhouse. It wouldn't be the worst thing..

Oksana tilts Eve's chin up with her fingers, smiling at her assuredly, "It is a beginning, Eve, not an end."

Eve smiles at that, leans into her lover's arm, and accepts the truth in her words. 

Carolyn comes back into the room, sliding the iPhone into her pocket, as she sits at the table again. "The driver will be here to collect the motel key momentarily." She taps on the table, before asking, "Do you have anything you need to collect while you're in London, Eve?"

Eve considers this. She doesn't have much at her home - anything, really. Just memorabilia that serves of a closed chapter of her life; of her failed marriage with Niko. And that's really what she should say, isn't it? She should go back home to collect a photo, to grab her wedding ring instead of let it collect dust in a drawer, but instead she says, 

"Clothes, I guess."

"We wil get you new clothes." Oksana interjects immediately, and Eve doesn't miss the urgency in her voice. Eve opens her mouth to defend herself, because her wardrobe is practical, _thank you very much -_ but Carolyn steps in, eager to not become a bystander to whatever lover's quarrel is about to ensue.

"Very well. I will take you to the station, first thing in the morning. Usually, this is the point in the night where I excuse myself into my room with my wine glass and listen to frog sounds." Carolyn says, but she doesn't make a move to lift from her seat. Eve wonders if the older woman does not want to be alone, but it is hard for her to imagine a reality where Carolyn Martens prefers to keep company instead of solitude. "Do either of you have any questions for me?"

Eve and Carolyn exchange another glance, and Carolyn turns her attention to Oksana, "I have made an offer to Eve, one that extends to the both of you. I will allow her to explain that you once you're back in Ireland, as I think it is a decision that will need to be made between the two of you. I will send you with my phone number in case you have any questions. Unless you prefer me to send a carrier pigeon. "

Oksana's eyebrows lift at this, glancing at Eve from her periphery, and Eve can feel the curiosity of her stare. The blonde wants to know now, Eve knows while Oksana is so many things, patient is not one of them. Eve returns her glance with a comforting gaze - one that allows her to know that they have time to talk, and will do so when the environment allows for it. Oksana seems to accept this, at least momentarily, when she shrugs.

And Eve accepts it because Oksana has a question of her own, she realizes, when the blonde speaks up - her voice quiet and unsteady, "Have you heard from Konstantin?"

Carolyn's eyes Harden a bit at that, but she replies firmly. "No. And I don't expect I will for a very long time, if he knows whats good for him."

Oksana replies with a quiet hum.

There's a knock at the door, which Carolyn excuses herself to answer, taking Eve's motel key, before returning shortly afterwards.

And then they just sit for a while, and it is a bizarre scene - only more bizarre in how natural it feels. Carolyn, Oksana, and Eve sitting together in a room - three people with the oddly specific ability to understand what one another is going through - not talking, just a quiet stretch of silence only illuminated by the sound of wine mugs being picked up, and put down again. They sit like that for half an hour, Eve realizes, when the driver returns and Carolyn is carrying her suitcase into the kitchen. 

She sets it by Eve's feet, placing the laptop on the kitchen counter, before taking a step back and clasping her hands in front of her, addressing the two of them. "I do think it's about time I retire. The guest room is on the second floor; the bed is made up whenever you're ready. Feel free to finish your wine, I'm going to do a perimeter around the house. It seems only necessary as I have not had one, but two break-ins tonight." 

" _Seriously_ , Carolyn, you need to invest in some better window locks." Oksana says, shaking her head, before finishing off the wine in her mug. 

Carolyn raises her eyebrows at that, turning to leave, before hesitating in her step. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she focuses her gaze upon Eve. "Eve, I do think tonight has turned into something a little.. sentimental, for my liking. But I do have to say that I meant it earlier when I said we did this together." She adjusts the watch on her wrist, exhaling before she continues, and Eve tries not let to her face morph into one of complete shock. Carolyn is not the type to acknowledge teamwork. "I have always maintained a dreadful level of annoyance at your complete inability to do as you're told, but I must say that if you had not intervened tonight, I can not be sure I'd be standing here. Thank you."

Eve's eyebrows shoot into her hairline at Carolyn's verbalized gratitude, and it catches her off guard. She sputters a bit before managing a very stuttery, "Y-you're welcome."

Carolyn nods, before leaving the room. When she turns to look at Oksana, the blonde is looking at her with an amused expression. 

"She is right, you know." The blonde affirms, tracing her fingers up Eve's forearm. "Eve, I amvery strong, but Helene is.. freakishly strong. Like the Hulk." Eve barks a laugh at that - at the sudden image of the Hulk wearing a pantsuit that flashes into her brain, and Oksana continues. "I forgive you for breaking your promise.. _this time_." She cocks a warning eyebrow at the dark-haired woman.

"Thank you, Master." Eve jokes, bowing her head to the younger woman, before standing up to put their mugs in the sink. "I'm tired, are you?"

Oksana eyes flicker at that, maybe recalling the first time they laid down together in that bed in Paris, or with something a little more sinful, "I can not say I am tired, but I am definitely not opposed to getting in bed." She waggles, _honest-to-God waggles_ , her eyebrows at Eve which elicits a jaw-drop from the older woman.

"We are not having sex in my ex-boss' house!" Eve whisper-yells, through gritted teeth, eyes bouncing back and forth to make sure Carolyn isn't about to appear out of nowhere like she always does. 

Oksana cocks an eyebrow at that, letting her hands fall in her lap as she watches Eve drop the mugs in the sink, "You know, it is interesting that you are more concerned about having sex in Carolyn's home than having sex on the same floor as a rotting corpse. You are weird, Eve."

Eve lets the mugs fall into the sink before whipping her head back at the seated woman, curls flying around her face as she does, " _I'm_ weird?!" 

"Yes, very weird.. and very _hot_." Oksana drawls, her eyes lingering on the curls framing Eve's face, and Eve just rolls her eyes, swatting Oksana's shoulder as she exits the kitchen.

She doesn't have to coax Oksana to follow her - she never does - and soon, she hears the chair scraping in the kitchen and the assassin is trotting along behind her up the stairs.

They're almost to the top when Eve feels a hand on her ass, which she swats away promptly, before turning around and pointing a warning finger in Oksana's face. "No funny business."

Oksana rolls her eyes, "You know, you are not doing anything to help your case, Eve. You're hot when you're sassy."

Eve just ignores her, before turning around and finding the guest bedroom with ease, and Oksana doesn't push her luck any further.

Eve falls asleep soundly that night - the house quiet, with the subdued noises of frog sounds coming from down the hall, and Oksana quietly snoring in her ear.

* * *

The train ride is easy - quiet, and hopeful. This time, Eve is traveling to a place where she knows she will meet Oksana; where she doesn't have to hold unbridled concern about potentially saying goodbye to her. It is a beginning, not a middle or an end, it is a beginning that she has been waiting for for a very long time. 

Eve had woken up early that morning, Oksana greeting her, with a coffee and a kiss, sitting fully-clothed on Carolyn's guest bed, and nudging her gently. The blonde figured the coffee would ease the blow of letting Eve know that she needed to get on the first train to Paris if she wanted to make it to Baltimore by the day after tomorrow, and Eve didn't argue. She knew that the faster the blonde left, the sooner they would soon be together again - but she did regard Oksana as a very smart woman for accompanying that drab information with coffee. When Oksana left, it was still dark out - the sun only beginning to peak its head out, and she assumed the younger woman got up early to finish up Helene before going on her way.

This was confirmed when Carolyn came into the room shortly afterwards, while Eve was making up the bed. After the overly-formal _good morning_ exchanged between the two of them, the British woman had let her know Helene was officially.. disposed of. With that, they were in the car - Carolyn driving Eve to the station, as the hustle and bustle of London started to ensue with people beginning their daily commutes. When they got to the station, Carolyn helped Eve with her luggage before giving her a.. _hug_? _Back pat thing_? _Some awkward form of embrace_ , Eve decides upon. She gives Eve a piece of paper with her phone number on it, before advising, 

"The two of you aren't on the run anymore. Get a pair of phones, for Christ's sake." 

Eve laughs at that, nodding in confirmation, before turning and boarding her train to Ireland. 

* * *

When she pulls up to the farmhouse, the sun is setting and the scenery invites her back like an old friend, green grass against an orange sky. She barely gets out of the truck before Abban is rushing down to greet her. She tenses for a moment, unsure whether the man is about to berate her for essentially stealing his truck, but her body releases the anxiety when the Irish man just scoops her up in a bear hug. She freezes awkwardly against him for a moment, before he holds her at arms length, similar to how he did Oksana the first time they reunited.

"Rory, are ye okay?" He asks, concern lingering in the crow's feet around his eyes. 

"Yes." She manages, her Scottish accent in-tact but only barely. "I'm sorry for taking yer truck, Abban. It was an emergency."

He waves a hand at that, silencing her. "Ye need not worry about that. Just glad yer alright, kid." He peeks into the truck, before asking, "No Maisie yet, eh?"

"Not yet." She sighs. "Late tomorrow, probably." 

He frowns, but nods before releasing his hands from her shoulders, his red, shaggy hair falling in his eyes a bit. "That's too bad. Have ye eaten? I was just fixin' dinner, why don't ye come around?"

Rory's eyes widen a bit, but she accepts with a nod before she can chicken out. Sure, she doesn't know how long she can maintain a Scottish accent, but she will welcome any opportunity to pass the time until Oksana gets back. Plus, she genuinely likes Abban and she's really _fucking_ hungry. 

He smacks her shoulder, with a grin. "Great! I'll let ye put yer stuff down. Come 'round whenever yer ready!" And with that, he's heading off towards his home - red flannel flannel, and overalls, almost blending in with the surrounding scenery. 

The door is open when she walks up the steps of Abban's porch, but she knocks on the frame anyways before entering. He yells for her to come in, and when she does, she's greeted with the image of him scooping shepherds pie onto two plates that sit upon a wooding dining table. 

Shepherds pie. _God_. It makes Eve want to laugh uncontrollably. 

She takes a moment to take in her surrounds and she sits down, and Abban's home is pretty much exactly what she expected it would look like. Very lived-in, as if the man had been residing here for well over a decade. The interior is almost all wood, the furniture reminiscent of green and blue patterns that went out of style in the 70s, and photos of a young red-headed woman peppering almost every table. 

He offers Eve a beer - _a real Guinness, none of that Scot crap_ \- which she accepts, and they eat quietly for the first half, making small talk and laughing easily with one another. The small-talk takes a turn when Abban finally verbalizes an observation he couldn't help but make.

"No offense, Rory, but yer accent is kinda wonky. Don't get me wrong, I can hear the Scot in ya but mixed with something else, eh?" He asks, eyeing her curiously, as he takes another mouthful of shepherds pie into her mouth.

She nods, sipping her beer, before responding with the first thought she could manage. "Diverse family." She echoes what she remembers Oksana telling him. "We moved around a lot. I spent the first half of my life in Scotland, then the U.S. for a bit, then London." 

His eyes widen at that, "The States, eh? That musta been interestin'." He relays with a genuine intrigue - and Eve notes it as the intrigue of a man who has probably spent most of his life in the small town of Baltimore, Ireland. 

Eve shrugs, noncommittally, scraping some of her food around. "It was alright. I liked London best." 

He grunts at that, taking a massive gulp of his beer, and some of the foam clings to the hair above his lip. "I'm sorry ye weren't able to visit under better circumstances. What happened, if ye don't mind me askin?"

Eve sighs; she lets her eyes float around the room before she answers. "We had a death in the family."

"Oh, Rory." His hands fall away from his plate, and he's looking at her with an exorbinate sadness in his eye - pity, but something else is mixed in there, too. Understanding, Eve thinks. It makes her curious about the pictures of the young girl in his living room. "I'm so sorry, love."

Eve waves a hand at that, letting him know that it's fine, before she points to one of the framed photos on living room table. "Is that your daughter?"

He offers a strained smile at that - genuine, but hurting, and Eve wonders if she's overstepped, but the man offers her his truth, and she realizes Abban is as open of a book as he seems from the outside. "Yep. In all her pride and glory. She passed away a few years ago."

The heart in Eve's chest stills, and her eyes grow wide as she straightens her posture in her chair. She rests her hand on the outside of her beer bottle, trying to muster whatever words can do justice to such a grave loss. "Shit. I'm sorry, Abban."

He shakes his head, sipping his beer, before letting his eyes fall on the photo as well. "No need to. I like talking' about her, keeps her spirit alive, you know? There was a time that I didn't, but I do now. She would have liked me to talk about it, I reckon." He laughs a bit at that, and Eve nods.

Eve doesn't ask how it happened; doesn't ask meaningless questions that people do in situations of loss to aid their own curiosities - she's harbored enough guilt from doing that for a lifetime, so instead, she asks, "Is it easier now?"

"Yeh, sure is. There was a time that I couldn't even speak her name without collapsin' into tears. It was awful. It was so bad at the beginning - there were times that I wished I had she had never been born just so I wouldn't have had to deal with the pain of losing her." He relays, acceptance and shame fighting for dominance in his voice, and Eve inhales at the admittance. 

But she understands - she really does, so she asks again, gently, "But you don't feel that way anymore?"

"God, no." He replies immediately, his green eyes shimmering brightly underneath the light hanging above the table, and he offers her a confident smile. "Better to have loved and lost, after all."

Yeah. 

_Yeah, it is._

Eve nods, holding her beer up to cheers the older man, and he quirks an eyebrow.

"To loving, even if that means losing."

He just grins at her, before clanking their bottles together, and the moon lightens drastically after that. 

Eve finds herself stumbling back to an empty farmhouse a few hours later - full of mashed potatoes and Guinness, and feeling more confident in her ability to love than ever before. More confident in her ability to lose, than ever before. 

* * *

Oksana shows up earlier than expected the next day. 

Eve is sat on the porch, mid-afternoon - doing a crossword she founded piled underneath dusty VHS tapes - when the blonde pulls up in what Eve assumes to be a rental car. A blue Prius, which elicits a laugh out of Eve, because _what the hell?_ That couldn't have been Oksana's first choice.

Eve stands from her chair, dropping the crossword in the empty seat, as Oksana climbs out of the driver's seat, flashing Eve a toothy grin. She's wearing an expensive looking outfit - a white blouse with tailored pants, and some black combat boots to top it off. It just makes the Prius look all the more absurd.

Eve crosses her arms, returning the smile without realizing, before asking, "A Prius?" 

Oksana smile falters a bit, transitions into some sort of puppy pout, and Eve bites her lip to keep from running forward and kissing her, "What, Eve? The guy at the dealership said it gets great gas mileage!"

Eve's eyebrows knit together in realization, as Oksana climbs the steps of the porch until they're face-to-face. Eve has to look up a bit, Oksana's height accentuated by the Doc Martens she's wearing, and she asks, "Wait, did you buy that car?"

Oksana nods, and Eve's jack goes slack.

"How?"

"Uh.. with cash, Eve." Oksana responds, confused with the line of questioning. 

"Dealerships accept cash?" Eve asks, her eyes narrowing. 

"Most of the time, no. But the French are a sleazy people. They will accept anything." She shrugs, and moves to wrap her arms around Eve's waist, and Eve sighs into the embrace - before pushing away when she processes what the younger woman just told her.

"You drove from fucking Paris?!" Eve guffaws.

Oksana's eyebrows furrow this time, but she's still smiling when she says, "Yes. I wanted to see you. This was faster."

Eve's eyes soften a bit at that - and God, she can't even say she wouldn't do the same, if she had the money.

Or she'd hop on a plane, like a normal fucking person. 

"Have you ever heard of flying?" Eve mocks, cocking her head to the side. 

Oksana rolls her eyes, obviously annoyed with the incessant questioning. "That would not bode well with the unregistered firearms in my trunk."

Oh yeah, Oksana is not a normal person. Eve doesn't even know why she tries to justify anything. 

"And now we have a car, Eve! We can go anywhere. I mean, we can fly, too. I just have to figure out what to do with the guns first." Oksana considers this, eyes trailing off momentarily, as if disregarding a car she just bought is a viable option if they decide to travel somewhere they can't take it. "I can just bury them under the porch, when we decide." She snaps back to the moment, a frown pulling at her lip as she gazes at Eve. "This is _annoying_ , why have you not kissed me yet?"

Eve smiles; smiles against Oksana's lips as she pulls her down, and they connect with a contented sigh. When they enter the house, hand-in-hand, Oksana asks, "So you like it? The car?"

Eve laughs, bumping her hip into Oksana's before they plop on the couch, "Somehow I think a Subaru would have been more fitting." 

Oksana rolls her eyes, pulling Eve into her lap, and curls her hair around her fingers. "Your lesbian jokes are outdated, Eve. Gay people don't just _drive_ anymore. God, you are new at this."

"Yeah?" Eve questions, cocking an eyebrow, adjusting so that she's straddling the blonde's hips. "You want me to show you new I am?"

Oksana nods, her eyes hooded and dark, and so Eve does.

* * *

Later, when they're still laying on the couch - naked, the sun shining its rays on their bare backs as Eve lays atop of Oksana - the blonde finally asks, "What did Carolyn offer you? Us?"

Eve sighs, letting her chin prop on Oksana's chest so she can look directly at her, and Eve notes that her hair looks more like a halo than.. well, hair, in the sunlight, before replying. "She offered us work."

Oksana's eyes bulge a bit, clearly curious.

"She wants to take down the Twelve, or.. the remaining members of the Twelve. She wants.. justice, she says."

Oksana raises her eyebrows at that, her fingers stilling on Eve's skin in the place where she was drawing lazy shapes into her spin, and asks, "What did you say?"

"I said that we make decisions together. That I'd have to talk to you first, but that I'm pretty sure you're doing with the whole.. _killing_ thing." 

A small smile plays at Oksana's lips, and Eve figures it's probably because it's the first time the blonde has been involved in the decision-making in regard to her work. "What are the terms?" She asks, and that surprises Eve.

"Oh, uh.." Eve clears her throat, crossing her arms over Oksana's chest so she can rest her chin on the back of her hands, "she said she would work with our terms. Tracking down every member of the Twelve would be.. tedious, if even possible. Meaning a long time between hits, and that's on a case-by-case basis." Eve relays the words the British woman told her.

"And in the mean time? Do we have to respond to someone?" Oksana questions, further. 

"No," Eve's voice is still tinted with surprise, at the fact Oksana is considering it, "I mean, I would probably be working to gather up intel on whoever we were looking for. The technical side, you know. But other than that, she said we'd be free to do as we please." 

Oksana hums at this, letting her hands run through Eve's hair, before looking down at her. "And how do _you_ feel about this, Eve?"

Eve considers this - but it doesn't take long. Her top priority is Oksana's comfort. "How I feel is largely dependent on how you feel. You're the one who's been looking for a career change."

Oksana readjusts, crossing her arms behind her ear, and Eve sits up a bit to get a better look at her. The blonde is looking contemplative - considering.. something. "I am no longer interested in needless killing; that is true. But killing the Twelve would not be needless. I would say it is.. well-deserved."

_I wonder if Oksana is just as interested in justice._

Eve raises an eyebrow, Carolyn's words echoing in her brain, and Oksana continues. 

"Well, should we weigh the pros and cons?" Oksana asks, and Eve laughs - a sound of shock escaping from her lips.

"You don't really strike me as the bubble chart type of person." Eve looks at her, incredulously. 

"I did not say anything about bubbles, Eve." Oksana's eyebrows narrow a bit, before asking. "What are the cons?"

"Uh," Eve considers this, thinking for a moment, before responding. "Your safety."

"Mm, yes, but people get comfortable when they are in hiding for long enough. They let their guard down." Oksana relays slowly, and Eve realizes she is working it through it verbally, just as Eve is. "Plus, if it is on our terms, that means we can pull out at any time, no? No contracts?" 

Eve shakes her head. "No contracts." She lets a moment pause, before adding, "What are the pros?"

"Money." She starts, with a shrug. "Do not get me wrong, I have enough money to get us through the next couple decades, but even that has an expiration date. I do not want to work retail in my forties, and you do not strike me as the type to be happy at a desk-job that is.. not high risk." Oksana smirks, and Eve nods slowly, because.. it's true. Eve wonders how long the blonde could hold a job at _Banana Republic_ before killing someone over an argument about pants. And sure, that's a far-off thought, they could figure it out later.. but it's better to be proactive, right? Or maybe they both know that their happily-ever-after does not involve a quiet, easy life - that their happily-ever-after has never involved that.

Eve swallows, before Oksana continues.

"Justice. It is a nice word. A fitting word, no? There are many members of the Twelve that I would like to see.. disposed of." Oksana's eyes flicker with some kind of excitement, and Eve can't help but feel it too. Eve can't help but imagine the image of every Twelve member hanging by their feet, blood dripping down their neck, a paid due for the strife they have caused in not only their lives, but all the innocent people's lives who got caught in the crossfire. Eve nods.

They fall silent for a bit after that, tracing lazy circles into one another's skin as their eyes float around - considering the many different colors they could paint their future with, when finally Oksana breaks the silence. 

"Maybe we should figure out where we are going to live first.. before we start thinking about accepting job offers." The blonde utters simply; quietly, and Eve nods - stretching her body so that she can place a gentle kiss on the blonde's lips. 

They'll figure it out, together. 

* * *

In the evening, Eve decides to take a bath while Oksana cooks dinner. Her legs are crossed over the side of the tub, dangling, while she reads a book she had found residing on the shelf underneath the TV. 

_Greek Mythology._

She had been flipping through lackadaisically, more in tune with the warm water seeping into her pores, than the words on the page. But she flips to a page that had been dog-eared - and for some reason, unbeknownst to Eve, the words on the paper start registering the words a little more consciously.

_The Myth of Orhpeus and Eurydice._

The ill-fated story of the Lover who looked. 

_In due course, Orpheus was brought before persephone, the queen of the Underworld. Before he spoke he once more played his lyre, and the shades of the dead clustered near to hear hismusic. Persephone's heart was touched by his story and his music and she agreed to let Eurydice return to earth._

_"But on one condition only," she told Orpheus. "She must follow behind you as you go. If you turn round to see her before she reaches the upper air, she must return here for ever."_

_So Eurydice was brought to them, and the young couple em-braced while Persephone looked on with a half-smlle, as if she already doubted her decision. But she did not change her mind.The pair crossed the Styx safely and began the long climb up the passage to the surface of the earth. Orpheus never looked back, though he was greatly tempted to make sure that the footsteps he could hear behind him really were those of his his beloved wife and not some trickery of the shades._

_Up and up they climbed, until presently daylight showed ahead of them._

  
_A few minutes later, Orpheus was at the mouth of the cave, and the warmth of the sun was on his face. A great Joy flooded through his whole being. What had been only a wild dream of happiness regained had actually come true. He turned to take Eurydice ln his arms. However, less strong than he, she had lagged some way behind him in the climb. He saw her dimly coming towards him, stlll in the shadowy passage. But even as he looked, she seemed to fade away and then was gone. He rushed forward but it was too late. She had returned to the shadowy world of the dead and was lost to him forever._

By the time Eve finishes the chapter, she drops the book over the side of the tub; breath trembling in her chest, and she realizes the wetness on her cheeks is a combination of steam from the bath water and quiet tears - ones that had made an escape without Eve realizing.

"Oksana!" She yells, gripping the edge of the tub to hoist herself into a sitting position, and the blonde is rushing in moments later - her features etched with concern, and her blonde hair flying wildly around her face. 

"Are you okay, Eve?" She asks, her chest heaving with an adrenaline Eve did not mean to cause, but once Eve nods, she exhales before bringing a hand to her chest. 

"What is wrong-" She begins, eyes still etched with panic, and Eve feels bad - she really does, but the name left her lips before she had a chance to stop it, just like she turned around to look before her body registered what it was doing, so she cuts off Oksana before she can continue.

"Let's go to Greece." Eve offers, confidently. 

Oksana eyebrows tie together, and Eve can see her lips part, but the blonde pauses - taking a moment to register her surroundings; register the book laying cover-up on the ground. Oksana cocks an eyebrow before walking over to it, lowering herself into a crouched position, and turning it over in her hands.

When Oksana glances at the title of the chapter Eve was reading, she just raises her eyebrows before biting her lip and glancing at the older woman.

Eve just glances back, quietly - water dripping from her shoulders, as she wraps her arms around her knees. 

"Orpheus was an idiot." Oksana states. Her eyes dark, but a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

"I looked." Eve replies.

"So did I."

"So we're both idiots." 

"Let's go to Greece." Oksana replies, and leans over the lip of the bath tub to engulf Eve's lips in a wet, warm kiss. And it's perfect. She would look, a thousand times over - if it meant she got to experience this over and over again. Hell, she would allow herself to be cast into some god-forsaken underworld, if that meant she got to follow Oksana. They're idiots, but they're idiots that belong together - in every lifetime. 

_Oksana and Eve._

_Orpheus and Eurydice._

* * *

They pack up the car - early in the morning. It doesn't take long, considering the small amount of luggage they're bringing with them. It's nice to travel light, Eve thinks, nice to know that they'll be starting from the ground-up. That's how it's supposed to go after destroying a life you never belonged to - you rebuild anew. 

Macedonia, Greece is a 39 hour drive from Baltimore, Ireland. They considered flying, but it seemed fruitless. Not when they aren't working with anybody's schedule, not when they have as much time as they possibly want to get to where they always belonged, not when flying doesn't allow them to stop wherever they want along the way. 

They glance around the farmhouse before closing the door, already having said their goodbyes to Abban who they promised they'd return to see next summer, and a weight settles on Eve's chest.

She recounts the dust catching in the sunlight, the subtle creaks of the wooden floor they stand on; she recounts the wobbly dining room table where Oksana first made her dinner, recounts the paint-chipped doorway to the bedroom where they first had sex, and it makes Eve's chest bubble with a confused weight. She doesn't want to cry; there is nothing to cry about. It's the last ending they have to endure, before they begin. She glances at Oksana, and the blonde is wearing a sentimental look in her eye, and Eve doesn't have to say anything - just knows she feels it too. They kiss, slowly - their mouths molding together in a way unaffected by time, unobstructed by the way it moves - breaking away from one another when they feel ready to do so. 

When Eve slides into the driver's seat, she doesn't say anything about the fact the younger woman decided to buy an automatic - she will not allow her the victory - but god, is she grateful she doesn't have to drive a fucking _manual_ cross-country. 

They are driving for less than an hour before Oksana falls silent - maintains a fixed, contemplative gaze on the moving scenery outside the passenger side window.

Eve doesn't poke her, doesn't prod, doesn't wonder whether Oksana is having second-thoughts because they're past that now.

She just trusts Oksana will fill her in, when she feels ready to do so.

It takes another thirty minutes before the blonde opens her mouth - turning the volume knob all the way down, effectively silencing the staticy classical music station that had been playing through the speaks - and Eve glances at her out of her periphery.

She's wearing a pout, pink lips pursed in a delicate way, and a crease is residing in the space between her eyebrows. Her hazel eyes are clouded with a shade of.. what Eve can only determine to be doubt.

"Are we girlfriends, Eve?"

_Jesus Christ._

Eve can't help but laugh, "That's what you've been thinking about?"

Oksana's pout just deepens, and _God_ , some people have two dimensions, some three, but Oksana must have thirty. 

Eve relents, rolling her eyes in the process, "No.. we are not," her nose scrunches with the word, " _girlfriends_."

The blonde's jaw drops a bit at that, eyebrows furrowing, and Eve continues.

" _Girlfriends_ are for high-schoolers, Oksana." Eve doesn't even want to entertain the word as a label to their relationship, it's more than underwhelming - it's disgraceful. "We're partners."

Eve can't help but watch the comical transition that takes place as the blonde's frown slowly pulls up into a contented smile, and she refixes her gaze out the window. "Partners." She repeats, a dreamy cadence tinging the word as it leaves her lips. "I like that." 

Eve just shakes her head, and Oksana falls into another silence, a seemingly contented one this time.. but it doesn't last long, it never does.

She pipes up when a passing sign shows an exit for a Waffle House. 

"Pull over, Eve! I'm hungry." 

"Are you kidding me? We've been driving for a fucking hour!"

"Please, Eve." Oksana pleads.

And so Eve does, she pulls over. 

Figures it won't be the first time.

Prays to God it won't be the last time.

Understands there isn't a thing she wouldn't do on this hell-stricken Earth for Oksana. 

But that doesn't mean she can't feign a bit of annoyance, along the way.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, ya'll! we done did it! the epilogue is here, and thus - the closing out of this fic! 
> 
> I hope this isn't lackluster for ya'll - when I thought about an epilogue, I thought about Eve and V exploring their relationship as an established couple: what that would look like realistically, how their dynamic would bleed into the mundane talks long-term couples have, etc! 
> 
> I can't thank ya'll enough for riding along with me this entire time, and it makes me feel a lil emotional to be closing it out! all of you engaging in the comments, and leaving kudos allowed the motivation to flourish to degrees previously unknown! each comment means the world and I love reading them! 
> 
> what a fun ride that was - can't wait for the next! see notes at the end of the chapter if you wanna help me figure it out ;)
> 
> as always, sending all my love to every one of you!

The first postcard arrives less than one year into their stay in Macedonia. 

Oksana is out when it comes, picking up some produce at the street market for the stew they've decided to make. Eve holds it in her hands - fingers rubbing the glossy texture, feeling the power emanating from the flimsy piece of paper - but she doesn't flip it over; doesn't dare look at the code on the back until the blonde is back. They had been expecting this, but they just didn't know when to expect it. 

They had accepted Carolyn's offer two weeks after settling in to their new home. That's all it took - three days to decide upon a villa by the sea, one day to move their small amount of belongings in, and eleven days before the place was fully furnished. 

During those two weeks, they had their first.. _big_ fight as a couple. Eve recounts it, humorously now, because the way their relationship has evolved has left her.. well, surprised. They don't fight often - or, _ever_ , really. If there is one thing the pair seem to hate more than being away from each other, it's being angry with one another. And it's not that part that's surprising to Eve - she doesn't want to exist in a world where they turn into the couple that falls asleep with their back to one another, but she expected high highs and low lows.. given the _circumstan_ _ces_ of their relationship. But they figured it out relatively quickly - how to communicate, and dissect an issue, before it blew up into something irreparable. 

* * *

It started small - the same way everything starts before it blows up. It started when Oksana tried to put down a deposit on a four-bedroom they looked at, and Eve rejected it.

Oksana pleading, the real estate agnate looking between the two of them, cautiously. "It is beautiful, Eve, so much room for activities!"

Eve countering with, "It's just the two of us, Oksana, we don't need a fucking family home!"

It didn't have to escalate further before Oksana was rushing out of the house, leaving a disgruntled real-estate agent and a very confused Eve in her wake. The scene quickly became one of Oksana hurrying through the busy streets of Macedonia, and Eve having to dodge people only to barely keep up. 

Eve yells, a few steps behind Oksana, accidentally bumping into a middle-aged man as she trips over his foot, "Oksana! What the _hell_! Wait up!"

And it is the first time Oksana gives Eve the silent treatment. It feels worse than arguing. It feels worse than the blonde yelling back, or breaking something, or even holding a knife to Eve's stomach. It feels worse to watch her retreating back, moving quickly through a crowd away from her, ignoring her. Eve watches the bob of her ponytail, watches the rigid pace of her movements, and it makes Eve feel sick.

Oksana doesn't stop moving until they're back at the AirBnB. Her composed posture, her steady breathing, her lack of sweat only makes Eve angrier. _God_ , if there is one person in the world that you don't want to play catch-up with, it is an assassin who can move through crowds with her eyes closed. 

She follows the younger woman into the AirBnb, having to push through the door when Oksana nearly shuts it on her, and they're barely inside before Eve is slamming the door behind them, and she can't help it anymore. She yells at her.

" _Oksana_! What the hell is going on?!" Eve yells into the open space of the living room, hands flying about at her sides; yells to the blonde's back who is standing stark still in the middle of room.

She watches the younger woman take a breath, and Eve hopes that she's doing that to calm down, but when Oksana whips her body around and her eyes are alit with an angry, desperate fire; her jaw tense - she realizes that is an empty hope. 

"What did you mean when you said that?" She's not shouting, but she may as well be. Her voice is calculated, vexed - carrying the flame of a scream even if she's barely speaking above talking level. She poises another question before giving Eve a chance to answer her first, "That you do not want a family home?"

_What the fuck?_

Her hands lower at her sides, and her eyebrows knit together in bewilderment. _God_ , she's angry, but she's more confused than anything. _That's what made her mad?_ Something is getting lost in translation, Eve knows that, so she replies with another question, before deciding on answer. She doesn't know exactly what the fuck is getting Oksana's panties in a twist, but she definitely does not want to risk misconstruing things further. 

"To be clear - this isn't some weird hang-up that is going to result in me finding out you want children, right?"

"God, no." Oksana shoots back, her nose scrunching to accompany the slight curl of disgust in her lip, and Eve sees the confusion cut into the anger in her irises. "We would make terrible parents, Eve!" She shoots back, angrily, and _Duh_! Eve agrees with that! They don't even know what they're arguing about - and Eve realizes this, and so she tries a different approach. 

"I know." She replies, her voice lowering from a shout to something equally as stern but reminiscent of an inside voice. She relaxes only slightly, crossing her arms over her chest, as she regards Oksana's hands balled at her sides. "That's exactly what I was thinking when we were looking at that house. Why the hell would we need a four bedroom? It's not exactly like we have a guestlist of visitors lined up! That place is fit for a small family, not just the two of us!"

Something washes over Oksana's eyes at the sentence, something akin to realization. Eve watches as the younger woman shrinks a bit, relaxes her posture guiltily, her hands unclench from fists - and it reads like a white flag, a _surrender_ , a sign of defeat. 

Eve's eyebrows tie together and she replays the sentence in her head. 

_That place is fit for a small family, not just the two of us!_

She compares it to what she said at the open house.

_We don't need a fucking family home!_

Eve's eyes widen in realization, incredulous realization, but still realization. Oksana took her words.. _literally_. About as literally as they could be taken. And while the blonde is usually not so touchy, Eve knows that any mention of family, or in this case lack there-of, is enough to strike the most sensitive parts of Oksana's heartstrings. 

They make eye contact, and this time - the flames in their eyes have been put out. There is a silent confirmation that takes place as their faces relax; eyebrows unknit, jaws release tension, that even though they have been talking at one another, they been missing each other's mark. They have landed just about as far from another's mark as they possible could. 

"You are my family, Eve." Oksana relays softly - so softly, Eve can barely hear it - shoving her hands in into the pockets of her trousers, and taking a small step forward. Her gaze is fixed somewhere off to the side of the room, and Eve notices the way she hangs her head - apologetic, and guilty, and maybe embarrassed, too. It makes Eve want to scoop her up, lay the blonde's head in her lap, and run her fingers through her hair until there's no trace of despair dancing amongst her beautiful features. But, they need to talk first.

Eve takes a step forward; takes a tender tone. "You're my family, too." It slides off her lips easily; truthfully, the way words do when they've been living inside you long enough that you forget they need to be spoken into existence. She reaches for Oksana's hand, running her thumb over the back of it, before intertwining their fingers together. The blonde tilts her head up, and this time when she looks at Eve, her eyes are unguarded; communicative. Eve exhales at the sight, before asking, "Is that what upset you? You thought I didn't consider you family?"

Oksana gives a small nod, closing her eyes tightly for a moment to steady herself, before reopening them. It is an action that has become somewhat ritualistic for the younger woman when she has to dive into her feelings - it is not an easy feat for her, Eve knows this, after being trained for the latter part of her life to ignore them at whatever cost. "It was.. part of it." Oksana admits, a tiny shrug lifting her shoulders before she continues. "I also just.. want to give you things, Eve. _Nice_ things. A nice home. I want you to be happy." Oksana confesses, with a quiet sigh.

It is a sigh that represents endless strings of rejection. Oksana was always trying to do this in some regard - clothes, food, grandiose experiences - and Eve was sure she was the first person in the blonde's life to constantly.. shut them down. All she wanted was Oksana; there was no part of her that needed to be convinced. But she realizes, it is a wound that runs very deep within the younger woman. Oksana had spent her whole life offering these things so that people would stay - offered her body to Anna, offered her loyalty to Konstantin, offered her life to Eve. 

Eve brings a hand up to cup one of the blonde's cheeks - willing the younger woman to look at her. Oksana gives her what she can, and so Eve will always give her her truth. It is the least she can do. "I am happy with you, Oksana. The happiest I've ever been. I don't need anything else. I just want to be with you." The blonde sighs, turning her cheek to lean into the contact of Eve's palm, and Eve just watches - watches as her heart flips, sinks, _soars_. When Oksana opens her eyes, Eve affirms her further, "Plus, you're the breadwinner right now. I'm not exactly.. _bringing home the dough_. You're the one providing for us." She gives her a gratuitous, reassuring smile. It is not an easy position for Eve to be in - even with Niko, she was always attached to her independence - but she knows Oksana's position isn't easy either. "Okay?"

"Okay." She nods, bringing her hand up to cup the one Eve is resting on her cheek. She leans forward and catches the older woman's lips in an all-enveloping kiss - full of warmth, and full of regained confidence. When their lips break, she doesn't stray far, she just rests her forehead against Eve's. "I do nice things for you because I like to, too, Eve. It would be nice if you accepted them sometimes." 

It's a deal, Eve realizes, and so she agrees, nodding against her forehead. If Oksana wants to eat at a Michelin-star restaurant every other week, then fine - she can manage. 

They separate when Oksana's phone buzzes in her pocket, and the blonde answers a call, stepping away from Eve. The older woman hears her speaking Greek - which is.. _hot_ , seriously hot - but Oksana sounds somewhat apologetic, talking quickly, before hanging up and sliding the phone back into her pocket.

"We are late for our appointment, Eve. I think you will like this one. It is small. Peasant-like." She relays with a cocky smirk, grabbing Eve's hand and rushing them out of the door.

Eve quickens her pace, rolling her eyes, to keep up with the younger woman. "That is.. _classist_ , but I will choose to ignore it in favor of saving ourselves from another argument."

* * *

Eve loves it. Loves it from the second she sees it. And if Oksana thinks this is peasant-like, Eve is a fucking serf. It's perfect. It's a two-bedroom villa - two floors, quaint and cozy, with a balcony that overlooks the sea. Oksana loves it too, Eve can tell from the way the blonde runs her hands against the walls, and they only have to excuse themselves for two minutes - making the decision together - before paying forth the deposit. 

They move in the next day. They're laying on a mattress on the floor, Eve laying her cheek on Oksana's shoulder, while the blonde buys out the inventory of a nearby furniture store on her phone. And yes, Eve thinks it's fucking crazy to spend $3,000 on a couch, but her and Oksana had a deal now. Oksana settled for the smaller home, Eve will settle for a designer-brand couch. Plus, she gets to choose the color.

It's five days later, when they're sat together on the red velvet loveseat, that they decide to accept Carolyn's offer. Oksana texts her - a small bubble that reads: Offer Accepted 👊

Eve cackles when she sees the blonde has put Carolyn's name in her phone as _Professor Umbridge_. 

Carolyn texts back shortly afterwards. It reads: _Wonderful news. I'm attaching my new e-mail address. Please forward to Eve._

Oksana frowns at that, eyebrows knitting together as she texts back: _How do you know this is not Eve?_

Three dots appear on the screen, and Carolyn's message comes through immediately: _Eve barely knows how to use an iPhone, let alone emojis_. **💃**

Eve's jaw drops at that, letting out an offended, "Hey!" to a Carolyn who can't hear her.

Oksana just cackles, before agreeing with her ex-boss. "It is true, Eve. You are a boring texter."

Eve rolls her eyes at that, and God.. if there is one feeling she does not like, it is definitely being teamed up on by Oksana and Carolyn _fucking_ Martens. The offense only continues when Oksana opens her contact to forward to the attachment Carolyn sent to her.

Eve does not cackle when she sees her contact in Oksana's phone is still _Kill Commander_.

When she swats the blonde's shoulder. Oksana rolls her eyes before changing the contact to _Eurydice_. She swats her shoulder again, and Oksana gives her a wide-eyed look before asking, "God, Eve, what do you want? Comedy or romance?" 

Eve just narrows her eyebrows, and Oksana relents. She re-opens the contact, changing it from Eurydice to... _Baby_ ❤️

Eve gives up.

* * *

  
Eve recollects the memory fondly now, sat on the worn-in couch, holding the postcard in her hands. She knew the time would come, but she didn't know what she expected to feel when it did. It had a been year of deep-digging, of scouring every corner of the web to track the man's whereabouts, and now that Carolyn had sent along the postcard with attached coordinates.. it felt very real. Oksana would be leaving soon to perform her first hit, after a year without.

"Eve!" The older woman hears the door open, and looks just in time to see Oksana closing it with her foot, trekking into the living space - arms full of paper grocery bags. Some things never change. Oksana yells her name upon entry, no matter what hour - _yes_ , even if that includes after a 6 A.M. run, to Eve's absolute dismay - and always comes back with arms full of groceries even if she's only supposed to grab one bundle of romaine from the farmer's market.

Repetition has always served to bore Eve. Niko used to come home from work, unknot his tie before throwing it on the couch, and kiss Eve's cheek on his way to get a beer from the kitchen. The movement was so repetitive, so boring that Eve would have to fight the urge to recoil from his touch after ten years of it. But when Oksana leans over to place a quick kiss to Eve's hair, on her way to the kitchen, it doesn't fail to make Eve's heart jump. Probably because it's never the same. Sometimes, Oksana comes home and gives Eve a quick peck. Sometimes she comes in and drops herself on her lap. Sometimes she comes in and just fucks Eve on the couch, right there. She's never bored - how could she be when she never knows what to expect? 

Oksana is talking about something as she unloads groceries into the fridge - something about an older woman convincing her to buy a pound of cherries at the market which.. _what_? - but Eve can't focus, can't bring herself to register whatever it is the younger woman is going on about. She just sits, silently, on the couch.. staring at the postcard on the table. Oksana finally catches on to the silence, when she hears the blonde trail off in favor of trekking out to the living room, probably to berate her for not listening. The blonde stands next to the coffee table, hands on her hips, and sunglasses pushed up onto her head - leaving an unobstructed view of her face as her eyes fix on the postcard on the table. Eve watches as Oksana's face morphs from playful and light, to wide-eyed and curious.

"Is that..?" Oksana asks, eyes not leaving the postcard.

"Mhm. Just came." Eve replies, staring at the little piece of paper.

"Have you?" Oksana asks, with no need to finish question when she lets her eyes trail from the postcard to the laptop sitting on the couch cushion next to Eve.

"Not yet." Eve exhales, pulling it into her lap, and patting the cushion for Oksana to sit down. The blonde does, and Eve offers her the laptop once she's sitting. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Oksana nods, biting her lip. She opens the laptop, clicking on a software that she hasn't utilized since she worked for Konstantin, and her fingers make quick work of typing in the coordinates. As soon as she presses enter, a full profile emerges.

_Jerome Yorga_

_Alias: Anthony Albu_

_Occupation: Psychology professor_

There is an image underneath the name - an aged, bearded man, smiling widely. His arms are flung around three other suited-men which look to be colleagues. In the background, there is a sign: _University of Bucharest_. 

"Wow." Oksana eyes light up at the screen, her eyebrows raising as she gets a closer look at the photo, "He has not aged well."

"He looks like a dick." Eve responds, unashamed. This is the same man who manipulated Oksana's diagnosis to throw her in a non-stop world of killing. Calling him a dick is only a sliver of what Eve wants to do to him. 

"Oh, he is." Oksana responds, nonchalantly, not taking her eyes off the screen. "He used to zone-out on my tits mid-session." Eve guffaws at that, but Oksana just shrugs, smirking at Eve. "Can you blame him? They are beautiful tits."

Eve rolls her eyes, but doesn't shake her head. Who is she to deny the facts?

"You weren't lying about the whole _people getting comfortable in hiding_ thing. I mean, professor at the most prestigious university in Romania?" Eve narrows her eyes, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde. "Does the man have a death wish or what?" 

"If that is what he wishes, then that is what he will get." Oksana clicks out of the software, before opening a tab in favor of searching for flights from Macedonia to Bucharest. Eve's heart stutters at the sight; her heart sinks completely when the blonde is clicking on a flight that leaves the next day at noon. She knew this was coming; had a year to prepare for the inevitable; had an active choice in making the decision to pursue this work together. She had upheld her side of the bargain, and now it was Oksana's turn. So why can't she handle it? 

Oksana pulls her from her thoughts, still scrolling through flights, and chattering eagerly, "It has been so long since I've dressed up. Professor, hm? I'm sure I could pull together a devastating school girl outfit." Oksana's eyes are lit up with the computer screen, and as Eve's outline the blonde's profile, she realizes her eyes are shiny with.. _excitement_. Eve's throat dries up, and Oksana continues, obliviously, "Are you going to call Carolyn or should I?" 

She finally tears her eyes away from the computer screen to look at Eve, and her eyes crinkle with concern as she takes in the somber tone playing amid Eve's face. "You're excited?" Eve asks quietly. 

Oksana searches her face, and Eve watches the younger woman's irises bounce back and forth, before her lips purse in a straight line. She closes the laptop, setting it on the coffee table, before turning to face Eve. "Kind of." She offers, with a shrug, before taking the older woman's hands in her lap. "I mean, I am not excited to leave you but it has been a while.. " she trails off a bit, her eyebrows knitting together as she searches Eve's unchanging expression, "since.. _you know_."

Eve swallows, nods once, and Oksana's lip curls into a small frown, and Eve can see it in her eyes before she says it. 

_This is who I am, Eve._

Eve interjects, shutting down the misperception before it can be given life. "It's not _that_. I.. understand _that_."

Eve avoids the use of the word killing, but not because she can't accept the blonde doing it. Especially now, when the kills are justice-driven, and not some random person on a postcard that the Twelve needs to be disposed of. It's because it is hard for to accept Oksana being in danger, again - after a year of undisturbed peace.

"I am just.. worried about you." Eve offers simply, honestly, because there's no use in holding it inside of her when she can just say it. It's inevitable, but that doesn't mean they can't talk about it. 

Oksana's frown disappears; the younger woman replacing it with a reassured smile. She squeeze's Eve hands in her lap, lowering her face so their eyes are only a few inches apart. "I'll be okay, Eve." Oksana accentuates the words, breathing meaning into each one of them. "Really. After a year off, I'm.. _refreshed_. Like a new born baby." 

Eve quirks an eyebrow at that.

Oksana rolls her eyes, "You know what I mean." She continues, seriously. "Nothing in the world can keep me from coming back to you, okay, Eve? I mean that. Especially not Jerome." She shakes her head, letting out a quiet laugh, "Seriously. He's an idiot." 

Eve smiles a little at that, and she accepts the blonde's truth with an exhale. She knows that Oksana believes in herself, and so Eve believes in her even more. That's what partnership is. She gives the blonde's hand a confident squeeze, before relaying, "I'm glad that you're.. excited. I wasn't sure how you'd feel when the time came around."

Oksana bites her lip, letting her eyes float about the room - considering her words carefully, before her eyes fall back on Eve's. "I am excited because it is Jerome. Because it is the Twelve. I do not think I would be excited if the circumstances were.. different." She exhales as she releases the word, and Eve knows exactly what she means. The blonde doesn't have to worry about guilt living in her body afterwards - how could she when this is the very man who deemed her fit for murder; who signed her off, year after to year, to kill relentlessly? Eve is excited too, in a fucked-up way, but concern has a funny way of casting a shadow over the parts that should be enjoyable.

Eve raises an eyebrow, letting her eyes trail down the length of Oksana's neck, before asking, in a low voice, "Were you serious about the outfit?"

Oksana quirks an eyebrow of her own, giving her a scandalizing look, " _Eve_. Cougar much?" Eve feels a palpable heat spread across her face; realizes it must be visible, when Oksana's eyes draw to her cheeks. "To be honest, I said that in the heat of the moment. A disguise won't do much. He knows my face after all, but.." Oksana leans forward, letting her breath linger on Eve's earlobe, "I will gladly play dress-up for you, Eve." 

Heat pools in Eve's waist, and she really should take Oksana upstairs to make sure she's good on her word, but she doesn't. Instead, she just pushes her until her back hits the couch the couch cushion; takes her right there. 

* * *

Eve calls Carolyn later that evening to let her know that they received the postcard, and Oksana will be flying to Bucharest first thing tomorrow. They looked up the syllabus on the University website, and Professor Albu should be finishing up a lecture at 5:30 PM which will allow the assassin more than enough time to be in the exact vicinity she needs to be to follow him home.

"Wonderful news, Eve." Carolyn's voice comes through the other end of the line, straight-forward and lacking any real hint of emotion. The consistency of it has come to serve as weird sort-of calm reassurance for the dark-haired woman. "I do expect you'll call me when all is well and done, yes?"

"Yep." Eve replies, letting her mouth pop as she releases the word. She's runs a hand through her hair, before asking, "So I guess there's nothing to do on my end this time, huh?" Eve asks, uselessly. She knows that Carolyn would have sent her a microphone, with thorough instruction, if that was the case. But Eve silently hopes that maybe Carolyn just forgot to include some piece of information, forgot to include anything for the first time in her life.

"No, nothing." Carolyn affirms. So much for that. "I'm serious when I say do not interfere this time, Eve. Deadly serious." 

Eve guffaws at that. "Yeah, I know, Carolyn. I'm not going to get on a fucking flight to _Romania_." She relays, as if she would never do such a thing. It's a useless argument - both her and Carolyn know. She would, but she won't. She wouldn't be of any use this time around, and that's hard for her to stomach. 

"Good." Carolyn replies firmly, before adding, "Oh. Speaking of flights, I will be in Athens next month. Would you and Villanelle care to do dinner?" 

Eve's eyebrows raise at that, and she can't believe that she's actually.. excited about the prospect. It's been a long time since she's seen a familiar face, outside of Oksana's - which is more than enough - and she can't believe she's thinking it, but some part of her misses Carolyn. Or the familiarity of her, at least. "Uh, yeah. That'd be.. great."

"Wonderful." Carolyn replies, and Eve just has to assume she's excited to see her, too, because her tone is indicative of no such thing. "Talk to you soon then. Give Villanelle my luck." And with that, Carolyn hangs up before Eve can get a word in.

"Bitch." Eve says, to nobody, before sliding the phone back into her pocket. 

* * *

Oksana leaves for the airport early the next morning, but not before pressing delicate kisses into every inch of Eve's body when they wake up. She does it precisely, carefully, thoroughly - and it's not an uncommon occurrence. The blonde has her morning rituals - run, shower, coffee to wake Eve up with, and often times, this - and Eve has learned not to argue. Not that she wants to, obviously, but the one time she questioned it - Oksana just shot daggers into her eyes, and Eve shut right up.

Eve learns it's just something the blonde likes to do - one of the _nice_ things Oksana likes to do for her: cherish her completely, every inch of her body. She shows her all the time. This particular morning, she clings on to the feeling of each one - tunes into the way it feels against her shoulder, her collarbone, her hip, her ankle. And when Oksana finishes, she has half a mind to ask her to do it all over again; start from the beginning, but the blonde has a flight to catch.

Eve doesn't make much use of herself that day - she gets out of bed to pace around the villa, sit on the couch, make more coffee, make toast, watch reality TV, checks her phone every five minutes. It takes every inch of her willpower to not send the younger woman a string of texts; she writes and erases at least a dozen - but doesn't send a single one. Eve has intrusive thoughts about Oksana just beginning to drag a knife across Jerome's throat, and the buzz in her pocket causing her to drop it; putting her in a compromised position. And Eve isn't stupid - she knows the blonde has the mind to silence her fucking phone, at the very least - but one intrusive thought is enough for Eve to blow off any text-related idea completely. 

She's sitting on the balcony when her phone finally buzzes. It's 9 PM - she's on her third glass of wine, watching the waves lap softly against the store of beach, when her phone vibrates the table. Her hand lunges for it, nearly knocking her wine glass over in the process, and her body relaxes for the first time that day when she reads the words on her screen. 

O: _Home soon X_

A wide grin spreads across her features at that, and she bites her lip to keep her smile from splitting her face in two. She texts back.

_I'll be waiting X_

She shoots another text off to Carolyn, to let her know that all is good before pouring herself another glass of wine - a celebratory one this time. Her phone buzzes four more times.

Carolyn: Great news. Give Villanelle my thanks. Money deposited tmrw 👍

O: 💋

O: 👅

O: 👌👈 👀

O: 🙊

She rolls her eyes at the string of texts from Oksana, but her eyes linger on the emoji from Carolyn. Is she really that out of touch?

She decides to play her hand; shoots Oksana one back.

☺️

The blonde replies immediately.

O: _Seriously?_

Eve rolls her eyes again, putting her phone back on the table, and she waits patiently. 

Who needs emojis when she can just show the blonde exactly what she's thinking about doing? 

* * *

She falls asleep on the couch; wakes up on the couch hours later when she hears keys in the front door. She sits up haphazardly, blanket pooled around her waist and hair untamed, when the blonde makes her way into the living room. Eve's eyes focus just enough to make out the black eye the younger woman is sporting, and the bundle of flowers she's holding in her right arm. She's looking at Eve, tenderly; powerfully, but Eve springs off the couch at the sight the purple hue tinting the skin under her eye.

"Oksana!" The name leaves Eve's lips in a distressed hurry, and Oksana is already rushing forward, cooing her name softly and pushing her back towards the couch. Eve squirms as she's pushed back into a seating position, while the blonde crouches in front of her. "What happened to your face?!" Eve's wide eyes are searching Oksana's desperately.

Oksana laughs, looking at her assuredly, letting her free hand rub at the older woman's thigh. "Eve. _Eve_. I know it is hard not to pay attention to my _beautiful_ , but temporarily damaged, face.. but can you please pay attention to the beautiful flowers instead?" She offers them up into Eve's line of sight, but the older woman doesn't tear her eyes away from Oksana's injury. She brings a hand forward to cup the blonde's cheek, and it allows a small comfort - the touch allowing her to know she is still in one piece, after all. 

"What happened to your face?" Eve doesn't relent, so Oksana does. 

The blonde sighs before answering, "Jerome had a bodyguard. He.. snuck up on me." She shrugs. "I took care of it. Both of them. Everything is fine." Oksana admits it, truthfully. Eve inhales at that, letting her eyes wander about the rest of Oksana and when she sees no other visible injury, she accepts the small comfort. Doesn't let her mind fixate on everything else that could have gone wrong. "Now, will you accept the flowers? You're ruining the moment." Oksana pushes them against Eve once more, and Eve accepts them dazedly. She looks at them, turning the bouquet in her hands - she's never seen ones like this before. 

"These are beautiful," Eve admits, smiling at Oksana confusedly. "What are they?"

"Orange blossoms." Oksana answers. Her eyes are shimmering in the low light, and they look exceptionally beautiful paired against the quiet, confident smile the younger woman is wearing. 

Eve nods, knitting her eyebrows together, before asking, "And why are you giving me orange blossoms?" Usually, Eve would just accept it as one of the nice things Oksana likes to do for her - but the cadence of the younger woman makes the gesture seem more.. _important_. 

"Happy anniversary, Eve." Oksana says, gently, taking Eve's free hand in hers and placing a kiss to the back of it. Eve's eyes widen, and her eyes dart between the flowers and Oksana a few times before she manages to open her mouth.

"It's..?! There's no way.. Already?! _Shit_ , Oksana. I-" Oksana's eyebrows raise comically at the sight of Eve sputtering like a fish out of water, and she just shakes her gently, silencing the older woman.

"You forgot. It's okay. You are Eve, after all." Oksana offers it without an ounce of venom; in fact - she says it lovingly. She's not mad at all, no - she just looks.. happy. 

Eve's mouth still falls open at the realization, and she wants to defend herself but her track record would argue otherwise. She managed to forget three anniversaries in a row with Niko before he made it a point to remind her a week in advance when they were coming up. But with Oksana - she figured she'd always remember, especially when she savors every moment they spend together. She just.. can't believe it's been a year.

But the way Oksana is looking at her is sobering - the blonde looks so full of emotion, so elated and relaxed, that Eve can't even spend time kicking herself for forgetting. A year, Eve realizes, is much longer than Oksana has ever spent with a romantic partner; probably much longer than she ever imagined herself able to spend with any one person - a longing, but not a reality. But they made it, and they're still in one piece.

Oksana laughs quietly, letting her fingers press against Eve's chin to shut the older woman's still-open mouth. "It is okay. I know you love me." She relays, cockily.

"I do love you." Eve offers, putting everything she can into the words, before leaning down to capture Oksana's lips in a soft kiss. The flowers tickle her chin as she does. 

Oksana hums against her lips, before leaning up to wrap her arms around Eve's shoulders and crawl into her lap. She clings to her, nuzzling her face into her neck and murmuring a quiet, "I love you," into Eve's skin.

Eve just holds her for a while, before letting her eyes fall to the beautiful and now-crumpled flowers between their bodies. "You're smushing the flowers." 

"Fuck the flowers." Oksana says, and clings tighter to the older woman. Eve just laughs. 

"Wanna watch a movie?" Eve asks, and Oksana straightens up at that. She pulls back, letting her arms loop around Eve's neck, before nodding and pressing another kiss to the older woman's lips. 

They change into pajama's, and Oksana brings the wine to the dining room table. They put on _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_ \- because Oksana wants to watch something light-hearted, and Eve realizes why when she spends most of the movie tracing delicate circles into Eve's skin, in an oddly contemplative way, rather than looking at the screen. Eve is laying on her back on the loveseat, Oksana on top of her - and they take turns swigging out of the wine bottle, trading kisses, and poking fun at the 80s corniness, before the blonde falls asleep on top of her. 

The credits roll, and Oksana is snoring quietly into her chest, when Eve reaches for her phone on the coffee table. She squints at the bright screen against the darkness of the room, as she googles: _orange blossom flowers meaning_.

Eve's eyes read the first answer that pops up on her screen:

 _Eternal love_.

She smiles, setting her phone back down quietly, before placing a kiss to the crown of the blonde's hair. She lets herself fall asleep like that - doesn't think about the consequence sleeping on a loveseat will have on her body in the morning, doesn't think about anything but Oksana, really.

* * *

The next month, Carolyn comes for dinner. 

They barely talk about work, to Eve's surprise. They mostly talk about their lives - London, Macedonia, cohabitation, how many plants Carolyn has accumulated. It feels like a dinner between old friends - and Eve briefly wonders if this is what their future will look like. Working on their own schedules, traveling in between, annual dinners with Carolyn. It doesn't make her stomach twist, doesn't make her uncomfortable at all - not the way thinking about her future with Niko and their chicken did. It makes her happy. She figures any future that allows Oksana a permanent spot at her side will do exactly that. 

Carolyn is complaining about the weather this time of year in London, before asks, "So.. will the two of you relocate then?" 

The two of them share a look - as they have not broached the subject yet - and Carolyn just watches, sipping her wine. 

They break their inconclusive eye contact, and Eve returns her attention to Carolyn with a shrug. "We haven't talked about it yet."

Carolyn hums into her wine, before setting the glass on the table. "You are both adults, and so you can do whatever you like, of course. But, now that Jerome has been killed, I'm sure the rest of the Twelve will be.. well, _on edge_ , frankly. As we've discussed before, it is not likely that either of you are in imminent danger, but some feel it better to be safe than sorry." Carolyn concludes, another soft shrug lifting her shoulders.

"Are you going to relocate?" Eve asks, chewing her lip as she considers the British woman's words. It's unlikely that anybody is actively trying to trace Oksana, but all it takes is one scared, excessively wealthy elite to pay somebody to find Oksana before she finds them. Eve pushes the thought down when Carolyn's voice finds her ears.

"No, I haven't yet. Why should I now?" Carolyn offers, truthfully, drawing her shoulders up as she poses the question. "But as I've told you, dying is not a concern of mine. I'm sure the two of you feel differently." Eve doesn't miss the way her eyes float between the two of them - obviously aware of the always-flowing energy between the blonde and herself. 

Oksana's brow furrows, and she bites her lip - her brow creasing the way it does when she's heavy in thought. Eve switches gears, as obviously a conclusive answer won't come to them at the dinner table, and she asks Carolyn, "How's Geraldine?"

Carolyn sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, before continuing. "Last time she called, she told me she's going to California to live on a commune and produce natural deodorant."

Oksana snorts at that, and the conversation effectively derails into something lighter, something comedic. They talk about California, then Russia, then Konstantin (only for a bit, as it seems both Carolyn and Oksana don't want to entertain that one for too long), and Dasha. Oksana does an impression of Dasha, and Eve almost falls out of her chair, in absolute shock, at the sight of Carolyn laughing hard enough to choke on her wine. 

Carolyn leaves relatively early, having a flight to catch back to London in the morning, and Oksana and Eve are half-buzzed and giggly by the time the older woman leaves - a product of Carolyn pouring them glass after glass of some aged, fine wine she picked up on the way to Macedonia. They aren't tired, and so they make the last minute decision to go out. 

They did this sometimes. They'd be sitting on the couch - halfway through a romcom - when the blonde would turn to her and offer the idea of going to the club down the street. It always surprised Eve, and it surprised Eve even more that she happily agree'd every time. Sure - she's way too fucking old to be in a packed, sweaty club full of twenty-something year old's.. but her and Oksana always managed to exist in their own little bubble, even in a room full of people. Plus, the only thing Eve may be better than Oksana at is dancing - and she will relish in that whenever she gets the chance. 

* * *

They're holding hands, walking down the cobble-stone road to the club, and Oksana does another Dasha impression upon Eve's request. She rolls her eyes, but Eve know she's all-too-happy to do it, and when she does, Eve laughs into her shoulder and Oksana just pulls her closer. She looks.. fucking _good_ , Eve thinks, in her tipsy haze. She's wearing a suit reminiscent to the one she wore the first time they danced together, just a little more subdued - navy blue with white stitching. Eve is wearing a classic little number - a black dress that hugs her in the all the right places, and she knows she made the right move when Oksana can't seem to keep her hands off of her for more than a minute at the time. 

They're in the club for less than twenty minutes before it happens. It always happens, which might the only thing Eve doesn't like about coming here with Oksana - but she'd never dare admit to the blonde.

Oksana is at the bar, ordering them a round of drinks, when she's approached by a younger woman - dark hair, thick brows, tight dress. There's no way she's older than twenty-five, and when Eve looks a little closer from where she's seated at one of the few open booths, she confirms she's beautiful. Eve rolls her eyes - watching as the young woman places a flirty hand on Oksana's shoulder, and she's _way_ too fucking ecstatic to get a touch in. If she had a tail, it'd be wagging, Eve thinks. She watches as Oksana gives her a tight-lipped smile, saying something that makes the stranger throw her head back in a laugh, tightening her grip around the blonde's shoulder. Eve almost gets up - she feels her face flush, her heart rate pick up, and she hates herself for it. It's happened enough times that she should really be used to it, but she isn't.

Niko wasn't exactly one to garner attention whenever they went out, and so Eve rarely had the opportunity to confront her own jealousy, aside from Gemma, but with Oksana - it was relentless. It happened everywhere - the market, the beach, the bank. Especially when their age difference didn't help people's already internalized homophobia - people always assumed they were friends, or cousins, or whatever. Oksana was always affirming about it after it happened, and Eve was always able to reign herself in - so she doesn't know what it is exactly that set her off this time. 

But when she looks at the younger woman even more closely, she realizes exactly what it is. The dark curly hair, the wide eyes, the timid but forthcoming nature of her motions - she's exactly Oksana's type. And as many times as she tells herself she doesn't want to possess Oksana, she can't help the little green monster rearing its head when a younger, hotter woman throws herself at the blonde, full-force. Oksana turns to leave, drinks in hand, and the younger woman has the audacity to follow her. The blonde notices, turning around and leaning forward to whisper something in her ear - and the sight makes Eve's stomach drop, but when she realizes they're both looking in her direction, and Oksana probably mentioned something about having a girlfriend or a lover or _what the fuck ever_ she says to all of these strangers that come on to her, Eve just feels guilty. 

She gives them a shy wave - Oksana looks back at her lovingly, but the younger dark-haired woman just squirms - her cheeks flushing a dark shade of red, visible even in the dim light of the club, before running off back to her group of friends. 

When Oksana sits down in the booth next to her, Eve grabs the gin and tonic out of her hand before downing it in a single swig. Oksana raises two eyebrows at the sight, opening her mouth to say something - something she doesn't get to say when Eve silences by yanking on the blonde's hand you pull her out of the booth. Oksana spills a little of her drink in the process, but Eve just pulls her forward, and leads her to the dance-floor. "Let's dance!" She shouts, not giving the younger woman much of a choice, when she pulls her in front of her and starts pressing her body against her. And _wow_ , maybe she's a little drunker than she realized. Their bodies are moving in a disjointed, almost-robotic motion.

Oksana is trying to keep up, trying to allow her hands to settle on Eve's body, but the erratic way the older woman is moving is not making it easy. The blonde gives up after a couple minutes, stilling her body, but Eve just continues to try and coax her into dancing. Oksana's eyebrows knit together, her lips curling into a small frown as she leans forward so Eve can hear her over the music, "Eve, I think we should go home."

"Why?" Eve pulls back, eyebrows furrowed, "We just got here!" She yells, a bit too loudly, when the blonde recoils a bit at the sound. Alright, maybe Oksana has a point. Eve is _definitely_ drunk, and does not want to be here. The older woman deflates, only slightly, when Oksana just looks at her with a quirked brow.

Oksana rolls her eyes when another moment passes, and Eve doesn't surrender. She leans forward again, making sure the older woman can hear her. "Because you are jealous, Eve. And while that used to excite me, now it just makes me.. sad." Eve deflates a bit, at the somber honesty in the blonde's tone. Oksana leans forward further, pushing Eve's curls over her shoulder, so she can whisper into her ear. "I would like to take you home and show you just how.. _silly_ that is." Eve fully deflates - the only thing keeping her upright is the chill traveling down her spine. She nods, dumbly, and with that - Oksana leads her out of the club. 

* * *

When they get home, Oksana has her pushed up the against the door before it even fully closes. She bites Eve's lips, before pressing wet kisses into the nape of the older woman's neck - they're all laced with hunger, desire, _want_ \- and God, it's already enough to make Eve feel fucking stupid for behaving like a jealous girlfriend twenty minutes ago. She lets the blonde lead her upstairs, lets her push her into her bed, lets her climb on top of her - but when Oksana slides her dress strap over her shoulder to lay a kiss on the bare skin, she slides away the last of Eve's resolve as well. The guilt bubbles up in Eve's chest, travels up her throat, until it spills out of her mouth. "God," she manages, when Oksana nips at her flesh, before pushing on the blonde's shoulders, "Wait. Oksana, _stop_." And with that, Oksana sits up straight - straddling Eve's waist - looking down at the older woman with a wide-eyed concern.

"Sorry, I just-" Eve trails off, running her hands over her face in an attempt to get a grip, but Oksana registers the action as something else completely, Eve realizes, when the blonde asks, "Are you upset with me, Eve?"

"God, no!" Eve lets her hands fall away, and Oksana climbs off of her in favor of laying beside on her, propped up on her side as she gazes at Eve, confusedly. Eve props onto her side too, adjusting her dress strap along the way, and she breathes out before continuing, "Of course not, Oksana. I was the one who acted like a fucking idiot, not you. You did nothing wrong." She relays, truthfully, and Oksana accepts the words with a slow nod - not one of confirmation, exactly, but one of attempted understanding. 

"So, you were jealous?" The blonde asks, propping her cheek in her hand - and her eyes are shimmery with a tipsy haze. She looks.. _beautiful_. It makes Eve regret all the talking she's doing, instead of touching, and she's sure Oksana would allow that correction right now if she so desired, but Eve knows she has to get this off her chest. 

Eve nods slowly, stupidly, _annoyedly_. 

"Why?" Oksana asks, simply - her eyes reflecting a genuine curiosity. 

It's a good question, Eve thinks. This has happened so many times, and Eve has managed to not react to a single one - so why this time? She thinks of the woman's dark hair, her big eyes - and yes, she was Oksana's type, but it was more than that. It's not that she views Oksana as hers, something to possess; something to own, but she still holds fear at the thought of Oksana feeling trapped, getting.. _bored_. It was a combination of things - but the fact that she was the blonde's type led Eve's brain into a spiral that looked a lot like: _what if Oksana wants to and just feels like she can't?_ If that were the case, Eve would let her have her way - and yeah, she wouldn't love it.. but she certainly doesn't love the idea of Oksana feeling a lack of freedom when she has been subjected to that very feeling her entire life. It was jealousy, _yes_ , but something much deeper as well.

Eve starts to unpack it, simply, when she says, "I think it was because she was your.. well, _type_." 

Oksana's eyebrows raise at that, a small smirk dancing across her lips that she's trying to keep at bay, and her tone is one of disbelief when she asks, "My type?" It makes Eve want to hide - pull the covers over head and not peek out until this moment was long forgotten. But she just steels herself as the younger woman prods further, "And what is my _type_ , Eve?" 

A flash of Anna plays behind Eve's eyes. Then a flash of herself. And sure, Oksana obviously has a thing for older woman - and the girl in the club was young, but she bore the same features, and Eve lists them, "Dark hair. Big eyes." Eve trails off, averting her gaze, before offering a quiet, "Pretty." 

Oksana's eyebrows just raise further, and she tips her forehead to get a better look at Eve. Eve maintains the eye contact - and it takes all of her willpower to do so. _God_ , they've talked about much harder things than this, but this one is really up there as far as discomfort goes. Oksana relaxes her face, nodding, "If you think that is my type, I see why that would be.. _concerning_." She offers, her gaze full of subtle skepticism. "But that is not my type, Eve." 

Any discomfort Eve was previously feeling is replaced by confusion, and her face twists in a way that expresses this. _What is she talking about_? Eve knows, for fucking fact, that is exactly Oksana's type. She is about to protest when the blonde continues, looking at her firmly, "My type.. is beautiful women with amazing hair, yes, but more specifically - beautiful Asian women with amazing hair named Eve Polastri. Currently.. beautiful, drunk, jealous women with amazing hair. Still named Eve Polastri." 

Eve lets herself cover her face with her hands this time. Partly, because she's embarrassed. Partly, because that was the corniest thing she's ever heard the younger woman say. She groans into her palms.

Oksana lets out a quiet laugh, and Eve spreads her hands so she can peek an eye through her fingers. "Okay, but she did have amazing hair.." Eve says, truthfully, in a last-ditch effort to defend herself. 

Oksana scrunches her nose at that, replying nonchalantly, "Really? Looked.. _shitty_ to me." 

Eve pulls a hand away from her face to swat the blonde's shoulder, and Oksana takes advantage of the unshielded opportunity to land a kiss on the corner of Eve's mouth. The older woman smiles, turning into it, and Oksana pushes her on to her back, straddling her once again. They let themselves fall into a warm, messy kiss - and Eve moans into it, when Oksana hands trace a gentle trail down her sides, and Eve ruins the moment - again.

"Wait." Eve states, and Oksana pulls back, cocking an eyebrow down at the woman and her eyes are relaying a dark gaze that looks like the encapsulation of _Seriously?_

"While we're on the topic, I just.." Eve trails out, and _God_ \- any attempt at eloquence is seriously failing tonight, but she tries again, letting her hands fall on Oksana's thighs as she looks up at her. "I just want you to know that all I want is for you to be.. happy. In whatever way that looks."

Oksana's eyebrows knit together at that, and she's looking down at Eve with a palpable perplexity, as if she's given the older woman an opportunity to believe, for one second, that she's anything but happy. "I am very happy, Eve." She's leaning down again, and Eve presses a hand to her chest to stop her, with elicits a groan from the younger woman. 

"I know." Eve continues, a tremble rounding out her words, "I just want you to.. stay that way. I don't want you to ever feel trapped." Oksana's brow creases, and Eve relents. "With me."

Oksana pulls back at that, sitting on Eve's hips looking dumb-founded, as the cogs finally click into place in her brain. The thought is so absurd, that it took the younger woman a while to finally put it together. But when she does, she looks almost.. offended. Eve watches as her pupils retract to a normal size, and whatever undertones of lust were previously radiating from her, dissipate completely. It's a rare feat - Oksana being turned off from being so.. _on_ , but it seems like the idea of Eve suggesting that she can do whatever she wants, be with whoever she wants, did exactly that. Oksana's voice is quiet, heavy, when she asks, "Do you seriously think I want anybody but you, Eve?"

"No! No." Eve responds hurriedly, because she doesn't think that; the blonde has done nothing to make her think that, but she doesn't want to close the door, allowing the potential of resentment to form if that ever.. _changes_. Even if she can't imagine entertaining any fraction of that idea herself. "But if you ever did, that would be.. fine, okay? That's all I'm trying to say."

It's the wrong thing to say, apparently, because the blonde just retracts further - and her face washes with a shade of.. _disgust_ , or something akin to it. She climbs off of Eve, and settles for sitting next to her on the bed. Eve pulls herself into a sitting position as well, in an effort to level their eye contact. She continues, trying to clear up the mess of what she just said with that she's _trying_ to say, "I am not saying that I think you want to be with anybody else right now, Oksana - I'm just saying if that were to happen in the future that you could talk to me about it, okay?" She reaches for the blonde's hand, but Oksana retracts hers a little bit in a movement that isn't.. callous, but it is enough to make Eve's heart sink. 

She exhales, and tries again, will try again and _again_ until Oksana clearly understands what's she means, "Oksana, listen to me - you are a lot of things, and I love you for all of them. You don't fit in to many boxes - and it wouldn't exactly surprise me if.. _monogamy_ was one of those boxes, and that would be okay, alright?" Except it would surprise Eve, just a little bit - not in a bad way, but just because she's come to learn just how loyal the blonde is. But the blonde is also.. surprising; unpredictable. "That's all I'm trying to say. I love you, I don't want to change anything about you, and I sure as hell don't ever want to be the reason you feel like you couldn't do something you wanted to do. That's all, okay?" Eve is pleading, she realizes. It's a fragile thing they're discussing - there's not a lot of room for misinterpretation, and Eve would rather over communicate than under communicate, at this point. She's learned it's the better route. 

Oksana sits stark-still, hunched over and Eve is worried she.. _broke_ her or something. She doesn't look mad, or frustrated, or annoyed. She almost looks like she could throw up. Eve regards her, with wide eyes, until the blonde finally opens her mouth to speak, "Eve, I do not think you understand. The thought of being with somebody else makes me feel.. _sick_." She pauses, before continuing. "I can not even think about it for long." Oksana relays, somewhat numbly, and Eve can feel her honesty. It takes her aback - because Oksana genuinely looks like she might puke at any moment, over even just entertaining being with somebody else. It sends a shock to Eve's core.

Oksana's lets her eyes trail to Eve's before continuing, "Maybe you do not want to hear this, and I do not mean it the way that I did in Rome, but I am yours." Oksana admits weakly, and it sounds nothing like the assertion of possession she once spoke to Eve in Rome. It is not a declaration of ownership, _You're mine_ , it is a surrender of will, _I'm yours_ , whether Eve wants it or not. Her eyes burn with a barely lit flame, as she looks at the older woman. "It is an intense thing to say, Eve, and I mean it. Completely." 

Eve inhales sharply, and they just stare at each other for a beat, before Eve rushes forward - capturing Oksana's lips in her own. It is a hard kiss - their lips connect audibly, and they tremble against one another when Eve breathes into her, breathes into her a thousand confirmations, but she pulls away to verbalize it in case it's not completely clear.

"I'm yours, too." Eve confesses, for a second time. She has already once, in her own way - back on the bridge.

_When I think of the future, all I see is your face._

Oksana lets out a watery laugh against Eve's lips, when she learns forward to kiss her again. "If that is what you want."

They finally make love later that night. It is not a rough fuck - one that would be expected after a night of inadvertent blue-balling, it is not even close. It's the very definition of making love, and Eve hates the fucking term, but it's the only thing that applies. It feels like they're creating something; promising something. Eve only realizes what is later, when she closes her eyes as the sun peeks its head out over the sea. _Forever_.

* * *

They do decide to relocate, after an hours-long conversation weighing the pros and cons of doing so. They liked their villa; they liked Macedonia.. but it all paled in comparison when they considered one another's safety. Even if the risk was small, it wasn't worth taking. Plus, they're well past the point of understanding that they can make a home anywhere - as long as they're together. They decide that they shouldn't spend more than two years in one place - not as long as they continue to hunt down the remaining members of the Twelve. After that, they can decide. Somewhere, there's a vision of retirement - but until then, Eve's future is probably going to look a lot like what she imagined. Traveling, relocating, occasional dinners with Carolyn - and she wouldn't change any of it. The more places she gets to call home with Oksana, the better.

They decide on Berlin.

It was Oksana's idea. 

It happened one night when Eve was talking about Bill - reminiscing on his personhood, all the ways he impacted Eve that she never got to tell him, but just has to assume he knew - and Eve is halfway talking through the man's love of Berlin, when Oksana stops her.

("Let's move to Berlin." Oksana offers, seriously.

Eve enters into a slack jawed surprise at that offer, barely manages to sputter a, " _What_?"

"Bill loved it." The blonde offers with a shrug, and it's one of the few times she's heard Oksana say his name. "I think that we should move there." 

Eve just stares at her, and Oksana continues - a look of shame playing somewhere deep inside of her irises. 

"Eve, I took him from you." Eve wants to interject, to say that they don't need to revisit this again, but Oksana continues before she can get a word in. "The least I can do is allow you the opportunity to feel close to him again."

Eve nods - teary-eyed and dumbly, but she nods; agrees.)

They're packing up the last of their villa when Eve stumbles upon a journal she hasn't touched for the latter half of time that they had taken up residency there - it was a purchase she made to fill the lulls in time when she first started working for Carolyn again. A desperate attempt to keep herself busy.

She smiles to herself, as she flips through it - nearly forgetting what she filled half the pages with. When they first moved in, she wanted to keep track of everything she learned about Oksana during their cohabitation - starting from their stay at Abban's to a few months after they moved into the villa in Macedonia.

The pages are filled with loopy, messy script, and Eve has to look closer to dissect her own handwriting. 

_Oksana likes crossword puzzles, Oksana has never seen Gilmore Girls, Oksana is a morning person, Oksana only likes coffee sometimes, Oksana's voice is weirdly high when she comes, Oksana likes Cyndi Lauper?, Oksana has terrible taste in ice cream (do not let her go shopping alone), Oksana likes pancakes, Oksana likes your hair up as much as she does down, Oksana likes labels - it helps her to understand things (ie: the girlfriend question), Oksana is weirdly festive.. loves Halloween but Christmas especially, Oksana is ambidextrous, Oksana prefers baths to showers (why stand when you can sit, Eve?), Oksana does speak Russian sometimes - mumbles it in her sleep.._

Eve laughs as her eyes trail the words, the first half of the book is full of scribbled ink, and the other half is.. completely blank. Eve stopped journaling, when she realized she was learning something new about the younger woman every single day, and that she wouldn't be able to forget a single one of them - even if she tried. She doesn't need to write them down anymore.

"What is that?" Oksana asks, slithering up behind Eve, and resting her chin on her shoulder.

Eve closes the book, before throwing it in the box. "I'll show you in Berlin." 

"Okay." Oksana nods, pulling Eve's body so that the two are facing one another, "Ready to say goodbye to our beautiful peasant home?"

Eve rolls her eyes, "If you think I'll be persuaded into renting a six bedroom in Berlin, you are sadly mistaken." Oksana pouts, and Eve laughs, kissing her forehead before nodding. "Let's say goodbye."

And they do. It's sad, of course - the home will always hold a special place in Eve's heart as the place they spent the first year and a half of their relationship, but it's not a goodbye. It can't fill the weight of the word - not when her and Oksana have a thousand beginnings ahead of them. 

* * *

The second postcards comes eight months into their stay in Berlin.

And this time, she's ready. She smiles before heading inside to show Oksana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright - extended directors cut: in my world, Eve and V continue working and tracking down the Twelve until they retire and take over Abban's property in Ireland! love to imagine these chaotic freaks living the quiet life. 
> 
> I'm already drafting ideas for my next fic and i’m probably leaning towards an AU! feel free comment any thoughts/insights as I’d love to hear them ! 
> 
> <3 endless thank you's and I hope you all are taking care out there


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